Grazed Knees
by marap
Summary: The sequel to Just Say Yes /  'Andy awoke to a room bright with morning light.' Sam/Andy.
1. Chapter I

AN: This is the sequel to _Just __Say __Yes_, my Sam/Andy fanfic filling in the blanks from the last three episodes of season two. I am so sorry it took longer than intended for me to get this first part up. I was kind of obsessing and rewriting. Anyway, this picks up from where _JSY_ left off. Well, from the next morning. For the most part, you don't have to have read _JSY_ to understand this. It may make it more enjoyable, however. If you haven't read it, just so you know, this fic begins with the day after the finale. Thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed JSY. It is because you all were so supportive that what I intended on being a three parter, ended up being ten, and now has this sequel. I am not going to guess how many chapters this will be. We'll just see how we go! Please, please review. The last chapter of _JSY_ prompted many author alerts, story faves etc, but many less reviews. I really hope you like this first chapter! Oh, and once again the title is a song by Snow Patrol. Mara x

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.

_Grazed Knees_

**I.**

Andy awoke to a room bright with morning light. She squinted blearily, confusion settling in as she realized she was not snuggled down into the old couch at Traci's that she'd become so used to. As the brief morning fogginess left her, she happily realised she was in a bed she'd met briefly once before.

Sam, however, was not. Her brow furrowed, but before panic could set in, she spotted a scrap of paper on his pillow. She raised herself up on her right elbow, her left hand reaching for the paper, feeling the warmth of his pillow as her hand brushed it. _'Just __taking __a __shower'_ she read, the words easy to read despite their typical, scrawled nature.

As the words of his note settled in her mind, she suddenly felt silly; needy, even. He'd barely left the room, yet still left her a note. Clearly he'd been worried that she would worry. If she was being honest, she probably would have. Just a little. She knew it was ironic considering her traditional disappearing act. Or maybe not so traditional anymore, she thought contentedly.

She flopped back down into the warmth of the bed, throwing an arm over her head and studying the imprints the sheet had left on the soft underside of her other arm. It was quiet, a change both pleasant and disconcerting. She had become accustomed to the morning hustle and bustle of mornings at Traci's. Leo chattering, Traci cursing with child-friend substitutes as she tried to find the lost item of the morning. Traci's mother offering repetitive commentary on Traci's disorganisation.

In the silence, it suddenly occurred to Andy that could not hear the cascading water sounds of Sam's shower. Either he had the world's most silent shower, or he was no longer in the shower at all. She pushed herself up and rubbed her eyes, giving herself a moment to properly wake up. She pushed off the blankets and let her bare feet drop to the floor. She smoothed down the bunched up t-shirt that she wore. and pulled Sam's boxer shorts back into place. The too-big shorts had twisted around on her body at some point during the night, the drawstring knot having ended up on her right hipbone. She looked down and observed how Sam's t-shirt was so big on her that it almost covered the boxer shorts, a strip of the navy hem the only indication of their presence.

She padded into the hallway and stopped at the cream bathroom door. It was not fully shut and steam spilled through the reasonable gap. Deciding against barging in, she knocked lightly with the knuckles of an open fist.

'Sam?' she called softly.

'Yeah,' he answered. He sounded a little distracted.

When the door did not open, he realized he needed to say something more.

'You can come in, McNally,' he said with a slight laugh.

She pushed the door open slowly, being careful not to open it into him. Sam was standing by the vanity, pulling a shirt on. It was a dark shade of green and Andy couldn't help but notice that the colour looked ridiculously good on him. But the girly swooning was fleeting, as her eyes fell to his upper stomach. It was tightly embraced by bandages, covering a good few inches of skin. No sooner than she had seen them were they covered by the falling green fabric of his shirt. But the image lingered, a bitter glimpse into the full extent of what had happened just the day before.

'You should've got me to do that,' she said, gesturing to his stomach with a raised hand. She knew it would have been difficult, especially with an injured wrist. Not to mention uncomfortable.

'Nah, I managed,' he said casually, glancing down to avoid her eyes, wishing he'd been speedier in putting his shirt on. He hadn't wanted her to see his bandaged torso. He hadn't wanted her guilt of yesterday creeping to the surface once again.

'Morning,' he said suddenly, walking the small distance between them and pressing a kiss to her lips, effectively pulling her from her troubled thoughts.

'Morning,' she echoed in reply, a smile stealing her lips as he broke the kiss.

She was suddenly aware of how disheveled she looked in comparison to his fresh from the shower neatness. She ran a hand through her hair.

'I didn't mean to sleep so late. You should've woken me up,' she said, leaning against the vanity.

'Nah, you looked like you needed it,' he said.

'Gee, thanks,' she said sarcastically as she raised a brow, a smile remaining on her lips.

Sam shook his head a little as he smiled back at her. He knew that she knew what he had meant.

'You know, J.D. would never have said that,' she teased.

'Yeah well, J.D's boring,' he said.

She 'pfft' her lips disbelievingly. 'Jamie told me J.D. had been in prison,' she said, her tone like that of a schoolgirl impressed by her date's bad-boy motorbike. 'Hardly sounds like a boring Mr Ordinary.'

'Damn, so I gotta serve time to keep you happy, McNally?' he asked as he nodded to the doorway and nudged her toward it. Andy moved out of the bathroom with Sam close behind.

She flicked her head around. 'Nah, I think I'd miss you,' she said.

'You think?' he teased.

'Okay, fine,' she said quickly. 'I know I'd miss you,' she amended.

He gave a smug grin. 'Breakfast?' he asked, moving towards the kitchen.

'You gonna cook for me?' she asked hopefully.

'We didn't exactly buy cooking ingredients,' he drawled as he reached for the loaf of bread on the counter. 'Next time.'

'Promise?' she asked with a head tilt and raised brow, leaning back against the kitchen counter just like she'd lent against his bathroom vanity. Sam liked it.

'I promise, McNally.'

Andy stepped out of the shower, which, incidentally, had indeed been pretty quiet. Especially considering the power of the spray. Her shoulders had adored the strong bullets of water that seemed to shoot from all angles. Andy had concluded that the shower had likely been the most expensive purchase in the house. It was understandable. With a job like theirs, a long, hot shower was often not only necessary at the end of the day, but also the best way to unwind. Especially if the shower was as amazing as Sam's. Andy made a mental note to save up for a shower like that for her new place.

She promptly reminded herself that she hadn't even moved in yet. Hell, her mortgage wasn't even finalised. She'd reschedule that meeting today. At least there was one advantage of this suspension. A lot of spare time.

She reached for the fluffy white towel hanging on one of the metal hooks on the back of the door, wrapping it around her body and finding that is was generously sized, hanging well past her knees. As she'd wandered towards the bathroom, Sam had casually called out that the white towel was a spare one he'd put out for her. Tucking under a corner of the towel to secure it in place at her chest, she hoped it was now hers rather than just a spare.

She bent over and lifted one end of the towel, using it to squeeze the water out of her wet, but unwashed hair. She usually let her hair get wet, never having felt properly refreshed if she ended a shower with it still dry. It was a habit she'd picked up many years ago, after her father had one night been a particularly sentimental drunk. He'd hugged her tightly and rambled drunken compliments into her hair. The smell of alcohol had lingered on her hair, bothering her as she tried to sleep that night. She had taken a one AM shower and let the water wash the scent away.

As she smoothed her hair back and pushed the ends behind her wet shoulders, Andy heard Sam's voice from the other room. She couldn't make out what he was saying, but the mellow tones of his voice were familiar. They'd long ago become comforting.

She flicked off the bathroom light and pulled open the door, steam escaping around her.

'That was Frank,' Sam said as she came into view, gesturing to the phone that rest on the table, rocking back and forth on it's curved back. His eyes took in her towel-clad form, but lingered on her eyes.

She nodded a little. 'What did he want?' she asked, awkwardly standing a little distance from the bathroom door. She felt a little weird, having a serious conversation while she was in a towel and leaving wet footprints on the hardwood floor.

'We have to go in later,' Sam said. 'Fill in some suspension forms, review our statements. All that.'

'Okay,' she said, her voice quiet but neutral. Steady, even. Her eyes were wide and seemed to pull him closer with a gravity-like force.

'He said that after that, no contact 'til our suspensions are over,' Sam said, cutting to the chase, biting the bullet and ripping off the band aid. He moved closer to her.

'With each other?' she asked automatically, asking the obvious in the way she sometimes did when she was nervous. Her hands fidgeted with her towel.

'Yeah,' he said, meeting her eyes as he stopped just a short distance in front of her.

'Right, yeah,' she said with a faux casual attitude. 'Frank said something about that,' she added. Truth was, she had not fully registered any of Frank's words beyond 'suspended'. Even _that_ had taken long moments to sink in, with thoughts of Sam dominating her mind.

'Hey,' he said when he noticed her fidgeting. 'It doesn't change anything.'

'What?' she snipped. 'Of course it does.' Sadness-driven frustration crept through in her tone.

'Not the important stuff,' he amended, hoping she understood what he meant. His feelings weren't going to change. Two years on from that - in retrospect, quite amusing - first meeting, that was the one thing he was absolutely sure of.

Her features seemed to droop with bittersweet sadness, the frustration giving way. 'Sam, we don't need to make any promises.'

'Hey, I'm not,' he said simply. 'Stating a fact McNally.'

She smiled weakly. Sam wondered if she had always been insecure in relationships; skittish and skeptical. With the wound of her mother's leaving and the unreliability of a drunken father, he thought it was likely. He imagined Luke had only made it worse.

'Well we've got today,' he said. 'So, we gonna make it count?'

Instant realization fell over her, bringing with it a slight reddening of her face. 'You heard my message?'

'Yeah. Just this morning,' he replied.

'What did you...,' she paused and let out a breath. 'I mean, what did you think?' she asked, strangely nervous considering she was pretty sure she had the answer.

'I think, McNally,' he began, squinting as if in thought, head cocked a little. 'I think that three weeks would've been _damn_good.'

She smiled as his lips pressed against hers. When their lips parted, she trailed a finger down his jaw, resting it against his chin. He saw sober thoughts swim in her eyes. 'Yeah, well I guess we've kind of got them now,' she said with a bitter laugh.

Their was a sadness in her eyes that he sought to steal away. 'Not quite how I was imagining them,' he drawled, making no secret of just how he _had_ imagined them.

'You were imagining them, huh?' she teased, letting her hand fall and tilting her head to the side.

'Yeah well, someone slept late. Nothing better to do.' he said casually, with that trademark smug grin.

He mouth dropped open, but he continued before words could leave it. 'So,' he began. 'Are we gonna make today count or what?'

She knew what he was thinking, but she wasn't going to make it easy for him. 'How we going to do that?' she asked, using her words from the night before to play dumb.

He leant down to press his lips to her neck, gently kissing the water droplets that rose and fell with the pulse under her skin. He lifted his lips to whisper a reply, his breath tickling her skin.

'That, McNally, I _do_ know,' he said with the subtlety of a foghorn.

'Sam…' she protested. He was still hurt, after all.

His lips whispered her name into the soft skin below her chin.

'Should you be doing this?' she asked, remembering that glimpse of his bandaged torso.

'Probably not,' he admitted, his words not matching his actions. His lips continued to collect droplets as he kissed her skin with care and attention like that of a fine craftsman.

'Are you gonna stop?' Andy questioned, her eyes falling closed as she struggled not to surrender.

'Nope,' Sam said softly, chin brushing the edge of the towel as his lips moved lower. 'You going to stop me?' he challenged.

'No,' she said, powerless and fluttery.

So he didn't.


	2. Chapter II

_AN: Thank you all so much for your reviews, alerts etc! I am glad you liked the first chapter. Sorry it took a little long for me to get this next chapter up. More to come, soon hopefully! I hope you enjoy, please don't forget to leave a review! Thanks all. Mara x_

**II.**

The edges of the windscreen were frosty, but no snow was falling. The interior of the truck was toasty warm, and it seemed almost cruel to have to leave it.

'You okay?' Sam asked.

'I don't even get it,' Andy began, speaking fast and giving no sign of ending her reply there. Sure enough, she continued. 'What's the point of this no contact thing? What do they think we're going to do? Plot against the system, change our stories?, We're not criminals, we're _cops_,' she said, turning to look at Sam.

'And we're about to sign off on our statements, anyway.'

'Its protocol,' Sam said; frustratingly blasé.

'It's _stupid_, is what it is.'

'Andy,' he began. There was no point going down this road.

She assumed his reply was one of disagreement. 'What? It _is_,' she affirmed, anger and frustration doing a poor job of concealing anxiety.

Sam pulled the keys from the ignition and leant back in his seat, twisting to face her. 'I love you, okay? It's gonna be fine.'

She had not seen that coming. 'Sam,' she said automatically. Awed and somewhat instinctively disbelieving, she struggled for words.

He smiled at her, lips pressed together and dimples on full display. He gestured his head toward the station. 'You ready?'

'Um, yeah. I guess,' she said, her voice wavering with complete lack of certainty. As soon as her hand fell to the door handle, she pulled it back as if burned. 'Actually, you go ahead,' she amended.

Sam looked at her in confusion.

'If we go in there together we're gonna get hounded with questions and everyone's gonna stare and I just want to avoid that as long as possible.'

'Andy, no one is that interested in our business,' Sam said.

She carried on as if she hadn't heard him. Sam wondered if those three words had caused, or at least worsened her nervous rambling. 'It's okay for you. Everyone loves you,' she said, a pathetic excuse for spite in her voice. 'Oliver, Jerry, Noelle. Even Gail. And Dov pretty much wants to marry you. I bet that new guy loves you and he hasn't even met you yet!'

'What?'

'Sam, just, please,' she said, closing her eyes.

He took a second and turned to look at the station through the front windscreen. 'You go,' he said.

'What?' she asked.

'You go first. Otherwise you'll probably sit here freaking out and never make it inside.'

'Hey,' she argued.

'I'll come find you when Frank's done yelling at me.'

'Didn't he do that already?'

'Yeah well, he's probably got a second wind by now.'

Andy smiled weakly, unconvincingly. Sam remembered that look from his sister's face.

Andy took a deep breath, tucking hair behind her ears. She wasn't wearing her hat, and if he'd been bolder, he would have told her to before they left his place. He thought it looked ridiculously good on her.

'Okay,' she said, calming herself. 'See you in there?'

There was hesitancy in her voice. He leant close, his lips dusting hers as he swallowed, before them parting as his breath escaped.

'See you in there,' he affirmed softly. He kissed her bare lips, tasting no makeup or foreign tastes. Only her. The passenger door opened and Sam watched her ease out of the truck, pushing the door shut hastily. He could see only the back of her as she walked with mustered confidence towards the station, locks of long hair cradled in the hood of her navy coat.

The pen felt shaky in her hand. Signing her name on the dotted line, Andy felt like she was in a dream. The whole thing felt surreal. Suspended after just two years? That'd be on her file forever. She felt shame and bitter guilt. _'Another __McNally __bringing __shame __on __the __profession.'_

'Okay, that's it. We'll see you in three weeks,' Frank said, standing from his seat behind his desk. 'Until then, as I said, no contact with Swarek, no stopping by the station. Total suspension.'

'Yes, Sir,' Andy said, standing from the chair she vowed not to find herself in again any time soon.

'For what it's worth, McNally, you're a good cop. Don't let this become more than it is. Three weeks and it's done. Then you put it behind you and move on. Serve and protect.'

'Thank you, Sir,' she said with sincerity. 'And I'm sorry.'

'I don't think Swarek would like to hear that.'

She blushed a little, surprised. It was a comment she'd never expected from her boss.

'I, uhh, I mean for the timing,' she said, despite the fact that she knew he was only teasing. 'That I put him in danger,' she added.

Frank nodded, solemn but not unfriendly. 'Go on. Get out of here. See you in three weeks.'

She turned to leave and saw Sam sitting on one of the chairs outside Frank's office. Not the closest one, she observed. Deliberate, she suspected with a smile. Not wanting to hover.

She turned the door handle with her left hand, while the fingertips of her right hand pressed against the glass as if reaching for Sam. She met his eyes and uttered a quiet 'hey' as she moved past, fiddling with a toggle on her coat. Not stopping felt strange, like she was blowing him off. But she could feel Frank's eyes on the back of her head, and she knew lingering would be foolish.

Sam smiled at her as he looked at her with soulful eyes that made it even harder to keep walking. '_Oh __god, __Andy, __pull __yourself __together,' _she thought._'If __you __think __this __is __bad, __how __are __you __gonna __be __later __when __you've __got __to __say __goodbye?'_

'Sam,' she heard Frank greet him, the sudden voice startling her a little. She almost lost her footing on the steps leading down to the main area of the station. She glanced over her shoulder and watched Sam slowly lower his body into the seat she'd just vacated, the glass door swinging shut behind him.

'Andy.' A familiar voice made her turn back around.

'Hey Trace,' Andy replied in a tone that lacked spark.

'Wow, don't sound so excited,' Traci said teasingly.

'Sorry, I'm kind of distracted,' Andy said.

'It's justified,' Traci said. 'How you doing?' Traci asked, standing with her arms loosely folded across her uniform-clad chest.

'I'm okay,' Andy replied. 'You know,' she added with a shrug.

'Yeah. So what are you doing here?'

She had called Traci briefly the night before to fill her in on her and Sam's suspensions. 'We had to review our statements and sign some suspension forms. Sam's in with Frank now,' she said, stealing a sideways glance up to Frank's office.

'And what about the no contact thing?' Traci asked warily.

Andy glanced down briefly. 'Starts today. Soon as we're done here.'

Traci nodded, not really sure what to say.

'Anyway,' Andy continued. 'Ugh, I hate that I'm asking this, but I haven't got my mortgage yet and I would stay at Sam's...'

'Andy, stop. You know you're always welcome.'

Andy smiled a little, the emotion of the day threatening to catch up to her, a teasing prick in the corners of her eyes. 'Thanks, Trace.'

Just as Andy lifted her arms to give her best friend a grateful hug, a voice distracted her.

'Traci, we've got a witness and -,' the voice stopped as Andy turned to face the direction it had come from.

Andy found a hurried looking Chris Diaz looking at her with happy surprise. He was so genuinely _nice_, Andy always loved his company.

'Andy, hey! What are you-' he cut off as if fearing he'd sound rude.

'Hey Chris. Just taking care of the paperwork,' Andy replied.

Chris nodded and Traci resumed her conversation with Andy, leaving Chris hovering awkwardly where he'd ended up, a short distance behind Andy.

'Shifts over at six, my mum will be out getting Leo in a bit, but let yourself in if you get there before they get back,' Traci said, Andy turning back to face her. Traci had given her a key when she first started staying there, and it had found a permanent place in amongst her set of keys.

'I can wait 'til end of shift,' Andy said. 'I probably shouldn't wait here, but I can totally go somewhere and kill time.'

'Andy, it's fine. You're not breaking and entering,' Traci said with a smile. 'I'll call my mom, if that's what you're worried about. Tell her you're coming.'

'Okay. Thank you,' Andy replied, trying not to feel awkward.

'Umm, sorry,' Chris chimed in awkwardly, jigging a little as he shifted his weight from foot to foot like a child needing a bathroom. 'Trace we really better get going.'

'You okay?' Traci asked.

Andy, who was turned to face Chris and had not realised Traci's question was directed at her, took a moment to respond.

'Yeah, I'm fine. Go,' Andy said to Traci, waving her off with a casual downward flick of the hand, as if shooing a fly away from her face.

Traci gave Andy a brief hug, before walking over to Chris, who was fidgeting like a bull in its gate. 'Serve and protect,' Andy called quietly after them. 'Stay away from undercover cops,' she added in a self-deprecating joke.

As they turned to leave, Chris suddenly jerked back and moved closer to Andy in a single stride. He ducked his head as if delivering a secret message. 'Hey, uh, sorry about this Andy. I'm not trying to rush us out of here or anything. It's just that the witness...'

'Chris,' Andy said with a laugh. 'I know, don't worry. It's fine.'

'Okay,' Chris said with a sweet awkwardness, straightening his shoulders as if to mask it.

As Chris turned to leave, Traci lingered momentarily, watching Andy. 'Andy,' she began, catching a glimpse of regretful longing in her best friend's eyes. 'It's not forever.'

Andy nodded. As she watched them blend back in to the professional hustle and bustle and flurry of blue uniforms, she struggled to remember that Traci's words were true.

Andy sat on the locker room bench and scuffed the sole of her boot against the hard floor of the room. Left to right, left to right. Somehow, it felt a lot like it was her first day again. Waiting nervously, her empty locker standing before her.

The locker room was empty, something not uncommon for the time of day. Crowded at start of shift and again at the end, it got few visitors throughout the day. Seeking a distraction, she dug her phone out of her pocket and browsed through it at random. There were some old text messages from Luke that she had never got around to deleting them. She hit delete. She scrolled through the rest of the texts and found nothing remotely interesting. She hadn't been waiting long, but it felt like hours. She was anxious, somehow suddenly having placed an irrational amount of pressure on this goodbye with Sam.

Still searching for a distraction, she used her phone to open up a blank web page. She punched in the web site where her newly purchased house was advertised. While she waited for it to load - apparently the wireless was weak in the locker room - she tugged a spare hair tie from her wrist, pulling it out from under the sleeve of her coat that she hadn't bothered to take it off when she came inside. She pulled her hair into a messy ponytail. She almost leant forward to flick open the door to her locker, so she could analyse just _how_ messy using the mirror on the inside of her locker door. Then she remembered. Empty. Cleaned Out. Bare.

She picked the phone up from where it had slipped down a little between her legs. Navigating to her house's listing, she enlarged the image of the house's exterior. With big, white-framed windows and a roof that stood almost a little unnecessarily tall, it was undoubtedly charming. So unlike her most recent, permanent residence. Not that she hadn't liked Luke's. God, she thought, how could anyone not. But it had almost been like living in the pages of a modern design magazine. Lots of glass and empty space that she could now see just really wasn't her.

'Hey.'

Andy looked up and Sam was there. Somehow, she hadn't heard his footsteps, and had instinctively flinched a little. She let out a breath and gave a self-conscious smile as Sam leant against the wall just inside the doorway.

'Hey,' she replied softly, silently cursing the shakiness of her voice.

He smiled back at her, his dark jacket making a scratchy sound as he leant forward off the wall.

'Having second thoughts?' he asked as he sat on the bench just to the right of her, their shoulders almost touching.

Her eyes looked up at him, wide with a hint of panic. He realized the vague nature of his question had been a poor choice.

He gestured to the phone, clutched between her hands, resting in her lap. The image of the house was still open.

'About the house,' he clarified.

'Oh,' she said, breathing a weak sigh of relief. 'No, it's kind of perfect.'

A cheesier guy would have said 'not as perfect as you'. A guy trying to get in her pants would have said 'mhmm, perfect indeed.'

Sam did neither.

'I'm sorry I still can't come with you.' He was vague, but she knew what he was referring to. While at his undercover place, she'd asked him if he'd wanted to accompany her to get her mortgage. Of course he hadn't been able to, she had assumed as much. She herself hadn't even ended up being able to.

'It's okay,' she said. 'I haven't even made a new appointment yet.'

'You gonna stay at Traci's?' Sam asked.

'Yeah. I asked her just before,' she said, flicking her chin towards the doorway. 'She said yes, but I feel kind of in the way. But, you know, not much choice, so...'

'If I could, I'd keep you with me,' Sam admitted.

'You make it sound like I'd be your prisoner,' she teased.

'You know what I mean,' he said, shaking his head.

'Yeah,' she confirmed. 'Me too,' she said, a hint of regret in her voice.

He pressed a single kiss to her lips, keeping it brief just in case anyone should enter. Kissing in the locker room was probably not the best way to start of their suspension.

'You know, you could stay at my place and I'll crash at Oliver's,' Sam offered, brushing her bangs back and letting his hand linger on her chin and then neck.

'Does Oliver know you're suggesting this?' she said with a suspicious smile and a raised brow, leaning back ever so slightly to look him in the eye.

Sam shrugged. 'He'll cope. He just gets jealous cause his family act like they love me more than him,' he exaggerated.

'Oh yeah?' Andy questioned.

'What can I say, McNally. I'm a likeable guy.'

'Oh yeah, I remember that's _exactly_ what I thought on my first day,' she teased, emphasising the 'exactly.'

He would have apologised, but he knew she only made the comment lightheartedly. And right then, a lighthearted moment was just what they needed.

'I was still transitioning out of my undercover role. I'm a method undercover guy, you know?' he said.

'Oh, right. Absolutely,' she said disbelievingly.

He stole another quick kiss.

'I'm gonna miss that,' he drawled, his breath tickling her lips.

'That's all?' she asked.

'Well no, other things too,' he said as he pressed his tongue to his lower teeth, a small, flirty smile playing on his lips.

'Sam!' she teased. 'That is _not_what I meant.'

He grinned and leant his forehead against hers.

'Andy,' he began, his grin falling. He swallowed before continuing. 'I'm gonna miss you.'

'I'll miss you, too.'

He nuzzled his nose against hers in silent reply. Somehow, the gentleness of it brought her the closest to tears that she'd been all day. She loved that touch _so_ much. She loved _him_ so much.

Sam heard her take a shaky breath. He looked into her eyes and saw a misty sheen he hadn't expected. He swallowed and lifted his hands to either side of her jaw, holding her face with immense gentleness.

'Frank said that new guy will drop you at Traci's.'

'What?' she asked. She'd been expecting Sam to do that. Not to come inside, or even leave the car. But she thought he'd be allowed to drive her, at least.

'Apparently he thinks it's best for someone else to drive you.'

'Why?'

'Cause he thinks we'll end up at my place, I guess,' he said.

'Oh,' she admitted. Then, after a second, she continued as if stalling. 'This shouldn't be hard, you know? I mean, the last time.. you were undercover anyway and then who knows how long it would have been before I saw you. So it's not like being apart is unexpected or anything and I was fine while you were gone to begin with and so -'

'McNally,' he cut off her rambling with intense eyes and a single utterance of her name. 'It _should_ be hard. And you're not the only one who's feeling it, okay?'

'Yeah.' she replied, shifting her shoulders as if feeling uncomfortable or self-conscious. 'I guess I-'

A knock at the door interrupted her. 'Hi.' It was Pete Sun, hovering in the doorway but standing straight with his shoulders back. 'Sergeant Best said I was driving you to Officer Nash's house?' he said, directing his half-statement half-question to Andy.

Then, as if suddenly realising he had not officially met Sam yet, he took a few steps forward and confidently thrust his right hand forward. 'Sorry. I'm Pete Sun.'

Sam shook his hand briefly. 'Sam Swarek,' he introduced himself. 'She'll be right out.'

Andy had expected him to call Pete out for barging in, but when he didn't, she wondered if he was being nice because of her earlier teasing. Or maybe it was just that _she_ was there and he guessed she wouldn't like him being gruff. Ironically, she herself had been less than polite when meeting Pete the day before, she knew.

'Okay,' Pete said, hesitating momentarily before continuing. 'He said we have to leave -'

'Yeah,' Sam said, ever so slightly aggressively. Then, firmly, 'She'll be right out,' he repeated.

'Yes, Sir,' Pete replied before scuttling out the door. Andy smiled, so much for being extra nice.

'God, he's like Diaz and Epstein rolled into one,' Sam said.

Andy laughed quietly, the smile falling when Sam stood up. He quickly pulled her up with him, bad wrist and all. He felt her cold hands begin to warm in his. Or at least, in the one not covered by the cast.

'You better go before he comes back in here,' Sam said reluctantly, still holding her hands in his but not daring to touch her further. He knew that the more they touched, the harder it'd be to let go.

'No,' Andy said, pulling one hand from his, in order to tuck fallen strands of hair behind her ear.

'Andy,' he began softly.

'Yeah?' she asked, now letting her other hand fall from his and fidgeting once again with a toggle on her coat.

'Sweetheart, you've really got to go,' Sam spoke quietly, his voice swimming with regret.

'Wait a second,' Andy said, looking at the ground.

'What?'

She flicked her head up.

'I love you,' she said in a rush. She pressed a quick kiss to his lips and then, suddenly, in a swash of brown hair and dark clothing, she was gone.


	3. Chapter III

_AN: Merry Christmas everyone! It is officially Christmas Day here in Australia. It is after three in the morning, as I post this! Late (or early) to be awake, I know, but I was determined to get this chapter up before Christmas Day. Sorry for not updating sooner, I found it a tough chapter to write as it involves a lot of interaction with characters other than Sam and Andy. By this I mean that they interact with characters other than each other. I really hope you like it and that you aren't bored by the presence of a bunch of other characters and the lack of actual Sam/Andy. They are suspended and not meant to be in contact with each other. It's the first night and so far they are playing by the rules. Not to say they will or will not break them at some point! Please review, I am so sorry I haven't replied to all the reviews and I promise I will eventually! It just takes time away from writing. But I appreciate them all so much and your kind comments make my days. Happy Christmas and warm wishes. X Mara_

**III.**

Andy dropped her duffle bag on the floor of Traci's living room and used her left foot to clumsily push it under the dark wood end table, getting it out of the way. She rubbed her left shoulder where the strap had been cutting in, before pulling off her coat and draping it over the back of the couch. Unzipping her boots and putting them next to the end table, she flopped onto the couch, hearing the familiar squeak of a spring as the couch accepted the sudden addition of her bodyweight. The white pillow Traci had given her when she first started staying there some weeks ago was resting neatly at one end of the couch, propped against the dark armrest. She quickly tugged the pillow down and nestled her head into it, lying horizontally with her back flat into the couch cushions. She was tired. In every sense of the word. And yet the weeks of empty time that loomed ahead of her seemed less _gift_ and more _curse_.

She glanced at her watch. Traci's shift was not over for another hour or so and Leo and his grandmother were not home yet. Andy studied the ceiling, guessing the distance from her to it. Two meters perhaps? The ceiling was a faded cream with the colour shifting to white at the cornices. It was a country cottage paint scheme that did not scream Traci. Andy guessed it had been that way when Traci first bought the house and she had never bothered to repaint. As she wondered if she'd paint her own place when she finally had the key in her hand, she glimpsed a spider web or two in the corner of the ceiling, just in her line of sight. There was no spider in it, and Andy wondered why it had left.

She made silent, mundane observations and let idle thoughts float through her head, trying not to think of Sam or wonder what he was doing. _Having_ _a_ _drink_ _with_ _Oliver?_ _No,_ _Oliver_ _would_ _still_ _be_ _at_ _work._ _Right._ _Calling_ _his_ _sister? Doubtful._ _He_ _was_ _frustratingly_ _private._ _Drinking_ _alone?_ _Geez,_ _Andy._ _Don't_ _give_ _yourself_ _so_ _much_ _credit._

'_So_ _much_ _for_ _not_ _thinking_ _about_ _Sam,'_ she thought bitterly. After fleeting minutes, thought began to battle with sleepiness, and moments later, her upper eyelids collapsed.

xxx

'Andy!' the voice squawked loudly. 'I'm going inside camping!'

Andy awoke to the excited voice of one very enthusiastic seven-year-old. Andy's eyes opened reluctantly, seeing Traci come dashing in from the other room.

'Leo! What did I say?' Traci said, speaking softly but sternly.

The boy looked at his mother with guilty eyes. 'But I wanted to tell Andy that I'm going _inside_ camping.'

'Leo,' Traci said, bending down to look him in the eye. 'Quiet, remember? I told you not to wake Andy up.'

'But I just…' Leo tried forlornly.

'Leo,' Traci warned, having none of it. She waved a hand toward her sleepy best friend, who was now sitting up and rubbing her foggy eyes. 'What do you say to Andy?' Traci asked.

'Sorry, Andy,' Leo spoke with sudden shyness, his eyes on the ground. He swayed slightly and the hem of his warm red sweater waved from side to side.

'That's okay, Leo,' Andy replied with a smile, seeing the worried look on the little boy's face as he slowly looked up at her. 'I shouldn't have been asleep anyway,' she said, feeling a little foolish at having a nap in the afternoon, let alone in the living room her best friend. 'So what were you saying about camping?'

'Not _camping_, Andy!' Leo said in a whine, as if Andy did was completely clueless. '_Inside_ camping!'

'Ohh, right,' Andy said, tilting her head and raising a hand to her forehead as if she had been incredibly foolish and sought forgiveness. 'But wait,' Andy began, intentionally furrowing her brow. 'Don't you have to be outside to go camping?'

'No! This is _inside_ camping, silly.'

He grabbed at her wrist with his warm little hand, tugging her along after him with a strength that surprised her. Almost tripping over her feet, Andy let the excited child lead her into his room across the hallway.

'Look, I'm sleeping in my tent!' Leo said, crawling into an impressive green and blue wigwam-style play tent that was set up in a corner of his room.

The tent took up a large portion of floor space and Andy remembered it had been a birthday present earlier in the year. Traci had spent ages tracking down this exact one, as it had a small enough circumference to fit in his room.

'How big do they think freaking kids' bedrooms are? I mean, you could fit me, Leo, Jerry and Dex in some of these tents!' Andy remembered Traci had complained one day at work, part way through the so called Quest-For-The-Perfect-Play-Tent. 'Cosy,' Andy had replied cheekily. Traci had shot her a look and continued her rant.

Andy watched Leo sit proudly in the tent, ducking down to peer in. 'Wow, mum's really letting you sleep in there?'

'Yep!' Leo exclaimed, crawling onto the makeshift bed of large cushions covered in a fitted sheet and sleeping bag. 'Mummy's gonna sleep in here too!'

Andy looked sceptical. 'I don't think she'll fit in there with you!'

'No! Not in my tent! She's going to sleep in my bed!'

Andy stood straight and turned back to look at Traci, confusion on her face.

Traci smiled a little and gestured over her shoulder with her right hand.

'You're in my room. Figured that you'll probably be here more than me, so it makes sense.' Traci spoke vaguely, not lingering on just _why_ Andy would be at the house more than she herself would be. She did not want to mention the suspension. It was unnecessarily obvious, and she saw her friend's sad shame when speaking of it.

Andy was touched. It would be nice to have some room, but she didn't want to put Traci out and definitely did not expect her to give up her room. 'Trace, you didn't have to do that.'

'Please,' Traci said dismissively. 'You get to sleep-in. The madness here in the morning is not exactly conducive to that if you're on the couch right in the middle of it,' she said. 'Besides, my mum tends to get nosy, so you're here in the day, at least this way you have somewhere to escape to.'

'Trace, your mum's never been-' Andy began.

'Trust me,' Traci interrupted with a knowing smile. 'Without me here you'll be a sitting duck. She'll want to know everything about you, and Sam, and you _and_ Sam.'

'Yeah well, it's not like I'm going to have much to tell,' Andy said, eyes looking off to the side.

'Andy,' Traci began slowly, her head tilting to the side, almost as if disappointed.

'Sorry, I'm being pathetic, I know,' Andy said, throwing her hands up in a sign of acceptance.

'Actually, I was going to say that I'm sorry you've got to go through this.'

'Thanks, Trace. I mean, it's only three weeks. Kind of ridiculous if I can't manage that.'

Leo, suddenly bored, appeared from his tent.

'Mommy, I wanna watch TV,' he said, looking up at Traci and pulling at a loose thread on his sweater.

Traci pushed his hand away from the fabric, not wanting him to unravel the whole garment. 'Okay, just until dinner though,' Traci said. 'Then bath and bed, okay?'

'Okay,' he groaned before scurrying out of the room. Andy heard the bubbly voices of cartoons spring to life on the television.

'Hey Trace, how about I make dinner? It's the least I can do.'

'Nah, don't worry. My mum's cooking something or other that is meant to be excellent comfort food for you.'

'That's sweet, she didn't have to do that.'

'You know her, any excuse to cook up something special. She's up at the store buying some herb I'd never heard of, but apparently it's crucial.'

Andy laughed, but it sounded a little hollow. Traci began picking up the scattered toys and books that Leo had left around. Putting things away was the one thing Leo was beyond difficult about. Traci suspected it was a lost cause. She imagined that he'd one day make a terrible room-mate.

Andy, feeling a bit disoriented after her afternoon nana nap, sat down neatly on Leo's bed, noticing that there were indeed fresh sheets on it, and that they were missing the aliens that adorned Leo's normal bedding. Apparently Andy had been asleep long enough for Traci to strip the bed and remake it for herself. Andy suspected that Traci had already done the same in her room, getting it ready for her.

Andy leant forward to collect a few fallen soft toys from the floor around the bed. She leant on an arm to reach the toy box at the foot of the bed, gently tossing them in. Seconds later, a single, traditional teddy bear rest alone on her lap, the last toy she'd collected from the carpet. She picked it up and looked at the teddy's small face. Brown fluff almost entirely covered his plastic eyes and his mouth was a little too down turned to indicate anything other than utter misery. A few stitches at the sides his nearly-hidden eyes suggested age and hard times. Andy wondered what on earth the toy manufacturer had been thinking.

'Trace, this guy looks _way_ too sad.'

'I know,' Traci laughed. 'Leo doesn't seem to care though. He's had him for years, but he still plays with him. Mainly when I'm not looking cause he thinks he's too old for teddy bears.' Traci said, scoffing to suggest that she did not agree.

'That face, _god_. Depressing much?' Andy said with a weak laugh, putting the toy in an empty gap at the corner of the toy box, perched on another toy, the bears sticking out at a right angle to it's body.

'Andy, listen,' Traci began, coming to stand in front of her friend. Sitting on the single bed with someone standing before her, Andy felt almost like a teen about to be told off for attempting to sneak out. Not that she'd ever done that of course…

'You're in love. It's supposed to be hard to be apart from him,' Traci said matter-of-factly.

Andy was a little surprised by the sudden shift in conversation. Teddy bears to Sam in ten seconds flat. He'd no doubt find that amusing. Clearly the shift was because Traci was not done with their earlier conversation.

After a moment, Andy replied with a slight scoff of irony. 'That's basically what he said.'

'About being in love?' a smiling Traci asked curiously, her tone lacking any subtlety.

'No, Trace. I mean, not in those words,' she said quickly with a likeable awkwardness. 'I just commented on it being hard and he said it's supposed to be.'

'Right, yeah. I can't imagine that Swarek's one to be real open with his feelings,' Traci said, putting a few paperbacks back the low bookshelf on the wall to one side of Leo's bed.

Andy looked away and gave a feeble laugh. 'Yeah,' she said casually.

'Andy...' Traci prompted.

Perhaps too casually.

'He told me, Trace.'

'Told you...'

'He told me he loved me.'

'Oh my god,' Traci said, instantly bending down to hug Andy. When she pulled back she continued, hands on Andy's upper arms as if trapping her focus. 'Did you freak out?'

'Trace!' Andy exclaimed, not actually annoyed.

'Fine, sorry,' Traci said with a smile, lifting her hands in surrender. Andy felt the bed sink a little underneath her as she was joined by Traci, sitting side by side on the bed. 'But really, did you?'

'No, Trace,' Andy said definitively. 'I was surprised, yes. But mainly that he said it, I mean. I think so, anyway.'

'You lost me.'

'It sounds stupid, but that first night… I mean, I kind of felt it then, you know? So when he said it, it wasn't like it was out of the blue or anything. But I guess I'd kind of been second-guessing, until he said it, I mean.'

'Okay, that is not stupid, Andy. That's why they call it making love, right?' Traci said. Andy smiled a little, letting the idea linger, despite feeling a little embarrassed. She wondered if Sam would care, if he knew, that she was being so open about that night. But she reminded herself that really, she wasn't. She just hoped Traci wouldn't ask any questions about it, for Andy had always been hopeless at avoiding answering questions.

'So what did you say?' Traci continued, thankfully not asking for any details of that first night.

'Nothing,' Andy said, continuing when Traci's eyes widened. 'I mean, it wasn't a big thing, you know? I mean, obviously it kind of was, but he just said it casually you know? I mean, like it was easy and he didn't expect me to say anything.'

'Please tell me you didn't leave it like that...' Traci said, shoulders drooping.

'Like what?' Andy said, pulling her chin in as if in defenseless retreat.

'With him professing his love and you not saying anything, and then you not being able to have any contact for weeks!'

'Thanks for the reminder, Trace,' Andy said, sarcastic but not annoyed.

'Andy...'

'I told him later, okay? Just before I left the station.'

'Andy...' Traci said, her head tilting and a hand pressed to her chest, looking like a mother proud of her child. 'I am so happy for you.'

Andy was amused by her friend's strong reaction. 'Trace I have said "I love you" before,' Andy said with a laugh.

'Not to Sam Swarek,' Traci rebutted with a smile like an impressed schoolgirl.

Andy couldn't help but smile back. 'No, not to Sam Swarek.'

xxx

Sam leant back in his couch, remembering the gentle weight of Andy against his side, soft hair and softer skin. Sam wasn't a mushy guy. But that didn't mean that he didn't feel deeply. He pressed a hand to his forehead, frustrated at how hard he was already missing her. Frustrated, but not surprised.

He had a beer in hand, but he wasn't drowning his sorrows. He frequently ended his day with a drink, but he never came close to falling into the trap of many a troubled cop before him. It wasn't something he'd ever come close to, but he'd seen many go down that road. Tommy McNally for one.

He was barefoot. The skin of his feet was one of the few areas of his body that showed no evidence of foul play. He lifted his legs to the coffee table, crossing his ankles on the hard surface. He remembered his mother nagging him about that habit when he was a child.

He took a large sip of beer and rubbed a hand over his face, the webbing between his thumb and index finger catching his nose. He'd momentarily forgotten about his wounds, and the cut under his eye stung where his finger had just brushed it. He doubted it would have, had the contact been from Andy's hand rather than his own.

The doorbell rang, interrupting his verging-on-pathetic, mopey thoughts. He was glad for the interruption but reluctant for company.

'Sammy, you gonna answer the door or you just gonna leave me out here in the cold all night, huh?'

Oliver. Sam smiled a little, despite the groan that left his lips as he eased himself up and made his way to the door.

'Yeah, yeah, I'm coming.'

'Come on brother,' Oliver whined loudly through the door. 'Bet you wouldn't make McNally wait out here like this.'

Sam opened the door, leaning a folded arm against it's edge.

'In case you've forgotten, I got a good beating two days ago.'

'Whatever,' Oliver dismissed. 'Shoes, jacket, let's go.'

'Am I under arrest or something?' Sam asked, making things difficult just because he could.

'Ha, funny,' Oliver deadpanned. 'See, I love my wife, yeah?' he asked rhetorically. 'But she has this annoying habit of caring way too much for strays. Be it cats or cops. So,' he clapped his hands together. 'You're coming with me,' Oliver said, gesturing over his shoulder.

'Do I get a choice?'

'Brother, you know as well as I do that if I turn up at home without you, she's gonna come over here herself. And she's not above bringing Emma along to give you the sad eyes.'

'Yeah, yeah. I'm coming,' Sam said, going back to the living room and sitting on the couch, pulling on his shoes and socks.

'Good choice, brother,' Oliver said, following him in and pulling the door shut, keeping the cold air at bay.

'You know this face is gonna scare the girls right?' Sam said, gesturing to his battered face as he stood from the couch.

'Nah, they're plenty used to that ugly mug of yours.'

'Yeah, right. So what are you gonna tell them?'

'Zoe's already told them that silly Sammy fell down the stairs.'

'Great, thanks.'

'Sarcasm's the lowest form of humour, my friend.'

'Yeah well, it's part of my charm.'

xxx

Sam brought the last of the dinner dishes into the kitchen, setting them next to the sink and loading them into the dishwasher. As usual in the Shaw household, the food had been great. Oliver had insisted it was a team effort, when in reality, it had almost totally been prepared by his wife.

Oliver was fiddling with the new coffee machine in such a way that left Sam thinking that - since the machine's recent purchase - Zoe was the brains of the coffee making operation. 'Stupid thing, why do they make everything so freaking complicated. Why on earth does this need so many buttons and dials. Seriously.'

Sam laughed as he put a saucepan into the dishwasher, carefully fitting it between the cutlery and another saucepan. It was a small feat made more impressive by the fact that he used only his uninjured hand.

Zoe appeared from the bathroom, shaking bathwater from her hands, dripping drops on the hem of her dark green cardigan. Her short dark-blonde hair hung neatly at jaw level, the pale skin of her face wearing only the slightest amount of makeup. She pulled a pink fluffy towel off the electric heater in the living room, noticing Sam's assistance in the kitchen clean-up as she passed.

'Sam, leave it. You're a guest.' She said. 'Ollie, take over would you?'

'Zo, I'm doing the coffee. Besides, McNally'll be impressed if he is well practiced at household chores.'

Katie, taller each time Sam saw her but still with the skinniness of a young girl, sat at the computer in the living room. Her long hair hung in a braid down her back as she typed with impressive speed, relishing the extra half hour she was allowed to stay up, being - at age twelve - the oldest of the girls. Izzie - at age nine - had just begun to insist she was old enough to take showers, and was in the shower upstairs. That left Emma. Five years old and every bit as cheeky as she was cute. Zoe had almost had to chase her into the bathroom in order to get her into the bath.

'Its true, mom,' Katie chimed in, eyes glancing away from the screen. 'I saw on Maury, they interviewed all these women and all of them said they want a man who is good at household chores.'

'I've gotta start paying more attention to what you're watching, Miss Katie,' Zoe said only half-seriously, as she disappeared back into the bathroom.

'Mom,' Katie complained.

'Did you hear that Zo? She took my side for once!' Oliver said proudly, planting grateful kisses on his daughter's head as he walked two mugs of finally-made coffee over to the kitchen table.

Katie giggled despite the groan that left her lips. 'D-aaddd.'

Sam smiled at the interaction. Oliver was so good with his girls and Sam occasionally wondered if it had just come instantly, as soon as he'd become a parent. Sam rarely gave thought to how he _himself_ would be as a father, but in the last year or two, he found himself thinking about it more often than ever before.

Katie got up from the computer and called through the cracked-open bathroom door that she was going upstairs to call a friend about some upcoming school event. Zoe called out that that was fine, but to keep the conversation short. Sam sat at the table and took a sip of the coffee Oliver placed in front of him. Oliver took a sip of his own and immediately spoke.

'Damn it, that is _not_ good. Flipping new machine. '

'User error, more like.' Sam teased, a fist to his mouth, exaggerating just _how_ below average the coffee was.

At his reaction, Oliver spoke. 'Oh come on, it's not that bad.'

'Well it's certainly not good!' Sam teased. 'Did you read the manual?'

'Yeah, right,' Oliver scoffed. 'Like you ever read a manual.'

'I do, actually.' Sam said proudly. 'Not ashamed to admit it.'

The bathroom door pushed open and in padded Emma, the pink fluffy towel leaving her almost hidden. Zoe's hands rest on Emma's shoulders as she ushered her toward the table.

'_Someone_ wants to say goodnight,' Zoe said.

'Aw come here,' Oliver said, hauling the bundled up girl onto his lap. He groaned. 'Ugh when did you get so heavy huh?'

'I'm not heavy like you,' the little girl replied matter-of-factly, her damp hair giving just one or two last drips of water, falling onto her father's pants.

Oliver laughed and kissed her cheek. 'No, you're not,' he agreed, tickling her tummy. 'Alright, Em. Bed. I'll come and say goodnight again in a minute okay?'

He lifted her off his lap, her little feet making a soft tap as they hit the ground. She lingered, looking up at Zoe, who stepped closer to Oliver while placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

'Um, babe,' she said softly, looking at Oliver. 'I didn't mean she wanted to say goodnight to _you_,' she said in a whisper.

She turned Emma around to face Sam. 'Go on, honey. Say goodnight to Sammy.'

The little girl took a step closer to Sam, sheepish but smiling.

'Goodnight, Sammy.'

A surprised, but ever so touched Sam smiled warmly at the little girl. Oliver looked disgruntled, glancing at Zoe with his mouth open and a hand raised in disbelief. Oliver's reaction made Sam's smile grow even larger, and he held back a chuckle, not wanting Emma to think he was laughing at her. He looked down at Emma's big blue eyes and slid to the edge of his seat, leaning down to give her a gentle, loose hug. 'Sweet dreams, Em.' He tapped her on the cheek affectionately as he pulled back.

'Come on little one,' Zoe said, waving Emma over playfully.

Sam heard Oliver say something or other to Zoe, but was distracted by the buzz of his cellphone in his jeans pocket. He tugged it out and looked at the screen.

'If that's McNally, don't tell me,' Oliver said, eyes lifting from his barely touched coffee. 'I don't want to know.'

Sam's brow furrowed slightly, a little concerned when he saw who the message was from. Traci Nash. She'd never sent him a text before.

'It's not her,' Sam said, eyes trained on the phone.

He quickly opened the message, bittersweet feelings playing inside him as he read the words before him.

_FYI._ _She_ _misses_ _you_ _already._


	4. Chapter IV

_AN: I am so sorry for how long it has taken for me to update. Family visited after Christmas and then I have been distracted by figuring out what I am going to do this year and searching for a job, as I finished my university degree in November. Anyone know any graphic design jobs in Sydney? Just kidding. Mostly. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's a pretty long one, at over 4000 words, so perhaps that sort of makes up for the wait. I've started the next one so the wait shouldn't be as long. A belated happy new year to you all and please don't forget to leave a review! x_

**IV:**

It had been almost a week since he'd seen her. Each morning when Sam awoke, it took a second for him to remember that it was another day without Andy. That he wouldn't sit beside her in a stuffy squad car, or bump into her getting coffee at the station, or sit behind her in parade and watch her braid swing like a rope when she moved her head.

Each night he fell asleep with her 'I love you' repeating in his mind, every bit a lament as it was lullaby. _Damn McNally_, he thought each night. She'd cast those words into the air before them, fresh and tangible, then fled before he could catch them. Had she only stayed another thirty seconds, he would have been able to give her the reply she deserved. He'd have cast the same words back to her and pulled her into his arms. Perhaps he wouldn't have let go. Perhaps that's _why_ she did it like that.

A few times, he'd wondered if she had feared his reaction. She should not have. After all, he himself had said those words earlier that morning. And he'd done his best to show them before that. That first night and each moment with her since. And if he was being honest to himself, probably many times before that. Intentionally or not.

He'd spent the first days of his suspension catching up on sleep and watching a lot of bad action movies. He was by no means a television or movie buff, but with empty hours to fill and his head to get out of, movies seemed like a good solution. Oliver and Jerry had come round for poker a couple of nights earlier and he'd spent the time dodging questions about Andy while skillfully collecting cash. Oliver had let him off easy up until then, not quizzing him about Andy or lecturing him about being stupid to start things while he was undercover. Poker night, however, the questions had come spilling out, gaining in momentum when Jerry joined in and more drinks were consumed. Sam realised that had Zoe and the girls not been there, the questions would've been asked the night he went to Oliver's for dinner. He'd half-jokingly made a mental note to kidnap Emma and bring her to poker night. _Try_ _asking_ _inappropriate,_ _nosy_ _questions,_ _then,_ _Oli._

He'd gone to the gym the day before, despite his unhealed injuries. He'd managed - sort of - but only felt worse today. Adding insult to injury, he decided it was time to bite the bullet and call Sarah. He'd been delaying it, knowing the conversation would not be pleasant. She had known he was going undercover again, but she had not been happy. She hated it. She always had.

Sam had once told her that realistically, he could just as easily be killed working the streets as he could undercover. He'd expected a rebuttal, but had been faced with a silent, stricken Sarah. Taken aback, he'd hugged her stiff frame and apologised. He'd never again made that argument.

'You're a dumb ass, you know that?' Sarah said.

Sam stood at the kitchen table, sorting through his mail with his still-injured hand, holding the phone with his other. It was late afternoon but the overcast weather meant sunlight was scarce. 'Could've started with "I'm glad you're okay."'

She paused. 'Yeah, well that goes without saying, Sammy,' she said, her tone suddenly serious.

'Sarah,' he began, despite not knowing what he could say.

'I mean, what were you thinking?' Sam didn't know if she was referring to the undercover in general, or something specific. 'Or maybe the better question is what were you thinking with?'

Oh. That shed some light.

'It wasn't like that,' Sam defended.

'Did _she_ know that?' Sarah questioned. Sam wasn't sure if he should feel offended that she was almost questioning his treatment of Andy, or somehow touched that she was looking out for Andy, despite the fact that she had never met her.

'Yes,' Sam replied, absolutely sure.

'Okay,' Sarah said, seemingly satisfied with his response. 'But now you can't see her?'

'Yeah, until the suspensions lifted,' Sam replied.

'When's that?' she queried.

'Ah, trying not to keep track,' he said, easing himself onto the couch with a groan and picking up the television remote, flicking it on and hitting mute before disinterestedly flicking through the channels.

'Wow,' Sarah said, dead-pan.

'What?' Sam asked, dejectedly letting the television rest on some ridiculous apocalyptic movie.

'You're serious about her.' It wasn't a question. Nor was it teasing or meant to embarrass.

'Yeah,' he confirmed. 'Yeah, I am.'

'She serious about you?' Sarah asked.

Sam paused momentarily. Okay, so now Sarah was looking out for him. She always had, even though his concern for her had been more justified. Ever since that day all those years ago anyway.

'Yeah, she is,' Sam said with a smile Sarah couldn't see.

Sarah took a moment to respond, the delay long enough for Sam to wonder what she was going to say. On the television screen, a giant fireball collided with a building. The special effects left a lot to be desired.

'Good,' Sarah said. 'So, you gonna come and visit, seeing as you've got all this free time?'

'Uhh, you know, I was thinking of just laying low around here,' he said, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to loosen them.

'Sammy, you can't see her anyway,' Sarah said, seeing right through him.

'That's not why, Sarah,' he denied.

'Yeah, it is,' she said, leaving no room for argument. 'Come on, Sam. We haven't seen you in months.'

'Aw, you miss me,' he teased with a grin, while the movie showed another building being obliterated by a spinning ball of flames.

'You know I do,' she said, turning the conversation serious.

'I miss you too,' he replied sincerely, catching the hint of vulnerability in his sister's voice.

'So you coming?'

'Sarah - ' he began.

She cut him off. 'At least for a day, you don't have to stay if you don't want to.'

'Yeah, well I'm not driving up and down on the same day,' he grumbled.

'Okay, so stay then. How about this weekend?' she suggested. 'I'll cook a roast,' she threw in for extra incentive. It was Sam's favourite and though he was an adequate cook himself, Sarah's skills went beyond his.

'Done,' Sam said, replying instantly much to Sarah's amusement, which came through softly as a laugh into Sam's ear. There had been years where that sound had left her, and every time he now heard it, he was more glad than anyone could understand.

x x x

Andy had spent the first week of suspension getting her mortgage and excitedly moving into her new place. She'd spent five nights at Traci's, and though Traci had told her she did not have to hurry to move into her new place, the house was empty so she'd been free to move in as soon as she was ready, and she had been too excited to delay. Furthermore, there was no need. She'd been excited to have something to do, something to fill her time with.

She'd wished Sam was able to help her move, not only for practical reasons of needing the help, but for wanting to share the experience with him. She'd had to hire movers to help her transport her small amount of furniture from storage and into the new place. She'd planned to do it on her own, but had been defeated upon realisation that her bed and couch were just too heavy to move by herself. Beyond that, she didn't have much furniture to move, just a few end tables and a coffee table as well as one small bookcase. Beyond clothes, DVDs and books, there were some more awkward non-furniture items such as framed wall art, a bedside lamp and tall, standing lamp that had stood in the living room of her apartment.

Belongings accumulated over the years – unused but still wanted – were stored in a couple of large wooden boxes she'd picked up years ago from some vintage and antiques store. They'd been stacked neatly against a wall of her studio apartment, somewhat hidden by the television next to them. They'd lived on top of the wardrobe at Luke's, much to his annoyance. He'd complained they looked messy and Andy should unpack the items and put them somewhere, and throw out what she didn't need. It wasn't things that needed to be out on display or used, she told him, but nor was it things she was getting rid off. School projects, childhood toys, police academy memorabilia, her high school prom dress. Probably lots of other things she didn't remember. Maybe she should take some of it out, she wondered, seeing as she had more space to fill in her new place. She was light on for decorative items, and while her eighth grade poster on salmonella may not be the most tasteful of décor, she'd probably find some things worth taking out of their box.

She'd called her Dad and invited him round for dinner tonight. Well, they'd go to the Italian place down the street, she'd suggested. She wanted to try it out and she wasn't quite set-up enough for cooking. Not that she was generally one for cooking in the first place. She wasn't incapable, but she'd never enjoyed it. Perhaps because it had been a necessity in her teens. Her father didn't know a spatula for a ladle even when sober, which for many nights, he hadn't been.

Andy had said six-thirty but she finally heard a knock on the door just after seven. It was not surprising, and with an inclination to be late herself, she couldn't really talk. She'd booked the restaurant for seven-thirty, anyway. Just in case.

'So, this is it,' Andy said, gesturing awkwardly to the room they stood in. It was the first time he'd seen her new place.

'It's nice, Andy. Big,' her father said, glancing around the open plan living room, kitchen and small dining space. He glanced into the bedroom, through a door just behind him coming off the hallway. It had pale green walls and was simply furnished with a bed and end tables, complete with a floor to ceiling built-in wardrobe.

He looked back at his daughter as she spoke.

'Not really,' she said. 'I mean, it's bigger than my last place, not that that would be hard,' she said. 'My apartment I mean, not the house. Not that the house was mine anyway so,' she said, trailing off.

'Still wish you'd let me give that boy a serve,' Tommy grumbled as he eased onto the comfy high-backed couch that she'd bought when she got her apartment.

'No offense, Dad, but I don't think you scare him,' she said as she pulled some soda water from the fridge and grabbed a couple of glasses. 'Besides, there's no point. It's over,' she said, filling the glasses.

'It'd make me feel better, at least,' Tommy grumbled.

'Dad, I'm okay. Really.' She handed him one of the glasses and perched on the edge of the armchair that was placed at a right angle to the couch. It was a nice piece of furniture, with a cream and blue damask pattern and plush fabric. She'd bought it cheap off eBay. Well, cheaper anyway. It had been the only thing she'd splurged on.

'You let me know if you change your mind,' her father urged.

'I will,' she replied like a teen being nagged. It wasn't a lie, though, for she could give him the answer he wanted as she knew she wouldn't in fact change her mind.

'So,' Tommy began. 'Any stories from fifteen?'

'Since when do you want to hear gossip?'

Tommy scoffed. 'I think I was the source of most of that, back in the day,' he said self-deprecatingly. 'No, I was thinking more along the lines of stories from the streets.'

'Oh,' Andy said. 'You know, same old,' she shrugged; blasé.

'Nah, come on. No big busts or anything?'

'Dad,' she began. 'I actually haven't been at work this week.'

'What, Frank give you time off to move?'

'No,' she began. 'No, I mean, he probably would have if I'd asked him, but I didn't have to, as it turns out,' she rambled, standing up from the arm of the couch and tapping the base of her glass against the palm of her hand.

'Andy, what's going on?'

'Dad, I uh,' she paused, but there was no way to avoid it. 'I got suspended.'

'What?'

'Yeah. But, you know, it's only for three weeks. I'll be back at work in no time.'

'Swarek was on an undercover thing with Guns and Gangs and during Boyd's stupid undercover training thing, me and Traci ran into him.'

'So? What? You blew his cover or something?'

'Dad,' she said with a glare, thinking he was poking fun at her first day on the job.

'Oh. Accidental. Sorry.'

'Anyway, it's over. You know, back at work in like, less than two weeks,' she said, wandering into the kitchen and putting her glass on the sink.

Tommy followed her, his empty glass joining hers. Then he looked at her, serious. 'Andy, I know I'm years out of the job, but I'm still pretty good at reading people.'

_'People'_ he said. Not _'you.'_ Truth was, it had been a long, long time since he had any special insight into the mind of his daughter. Not through any fault of hers.

'Yeah?' she stalled.

'Andy, come on. What's the rest?'

She sighed. 'Alright,' she said, lifting her hands, palms parallel to the ceiling in a sigh of defeat. 'Basically, after me and Traci ran into Swarek I went back to see him. And then one other time too and in amongst that, Boyd had given Sam a flawed story for his undercover character,' she told the story in disjointed snippets, leaving out details that would be awkward to mention. 'So Sam was in danger and it was kind of my fault and you know, I compromised the operation. So, I mean it was only fair. But like I said, I'm back at work soon and Sam's okay. So, everything's fine.'

'Sam?' Tommy asked, his voice neutral.

'Yeah, Sam Swarek,' she said, almost frustrated or lacking in patience. 'You know him, Dad.'

'Yeah,' he nodded. 'Well, kind of. Didn't work many cases together. But I always called him Swarek,' he said, with emphasis on the 'I'.

'So...' Andy said, playing dumb as she leant against the kitchen counter.

'So,' Tommy said. 'You called him Sam.'

'Well, it's his name so...' she shrugged.

'He's Sam to you?'

As Tommy stared at his daughter, his eyes sought answers. Looking back at him, Andy figured she may as well give him the truth. He'd find out sooner or later.

'Yeah, Dad,' she said. 'He's Sam.'

Tommy nodded, but his face showed that he still remained in thought.

'So, you mean that you and Swarek...'

'Oh god,' Andy said, embarrassed, lifting her hands to her forehead. 'We don't need to talk about this.' She walked back to the arm chair she'd vacated, smoothing the fabric on the arm rest.

'Well, kiddo,' he said, trailing her. 'I just wanted to be sure what you were saying here.'

Andy jerked around to face him. 'Fine! Yes,' she said. 'Yes, Dad. Me and Sam.'

'Well, Swarek ey? He's a bit old for you isn't he?'

'Dad...'

'Alright,' he said, taking back his place on the couch. 'Just, he's got that whole rogue attitude. So be careful. And don't expect too much.'

'Yeah well, it can't go worse than it did with Luke,' she joked, with an edge of truth to her words.

Her father stared at her, worried, mouth agape.

'I'm kidding,' she added as she sat down in the arm chair, sitting properly this time.

'You really like him? I mean,' he paused and ever so slightly shifted position on the couch in a sign of awkwardness. 'It's serious?'

'Yes, Dad, I do. And yes, I think so. As much as it can be considering the timing,' she answered. 'Now can we stop talking about Sam please?'

'Just making sure my baby girl doesn't get hurt again.'

'I _am_ grown up, Dad.'

'I know. I know you are. And most of the time, it's been you looking out for me. Bought my turn to look out for you, Andy.'

She smiled bittersweetly. 'Thanks, Dad. But I'm fine, I promise.'

'Okay, well, let me know if I need to give him a serve, too.'

She laughed. 'Okay, Dad.'

x x x

Sam knocked on the green door of the traditional, wood panelled house, the door solid under his knuckles. The house was on a leafy downtown street, with Montebello Park at one end. One of his sister's favourite places and one of the reasons this house had been chosen, Sam remembered. The small veranda on which he stood was reached by a few steps leading up from the sidewalk, with white wooden fencing leading up the steps and wrapping around the veranda. Snow dusted the top of the fencing, but was virtually unnoticeable against the white wood. Long walls of snow had been shovelled from the tar-black driveway, neatly pushed to each side and bringing a zebra-like pattern.

The door opened. Sam was not surprised when his brother-in-law was on the other side of it. His sister avoided answering the door. It was one of many fears that had come following her attack and was only one of few that had refused to fully leave her. Sarah had met her husband, Ben, more than ten years after her trauma. But he'd never judged her for the effects that still lingered, all those years later, or shown anything other than empathy for what she'd been through. It was that, above anything, that had earned him Sam's support. And, when the time came five years later, his blessing to marry her. Ben had nervously approached Sam, half-asking for approval, half letting him know his plans. Sam smiled at the memory.

'Wow, she's not going to like the look of you.' Ben said, taking in Sam's battered face and the cast peeking from his leather jacket sleeve.

'Was worse a week ago,' Sam said with a shrug. It was true, his face was significantly improved, the healing process having well and truly begun.

'Whatever you do, do not say that to her,' Ben spoke through gritted teeth, stepping aside to let Sam in.

Sam smiled. 'Good to see you, Ben,' he moved inside and slapped a hand on his brother in law's shoulder in a friendly greeting.

'You too, Sammy,' Ben said, loosely gripping Sam's shoulder.

Sarah appeared in the hallway, having come from the direction of the living room. She was dressed in dark jeans, tucked into grey ugg boots. A dark purple henley was half-hidden by a chunky brown scarf, looped loosely around her neck with the ends hanging down to hip-level. Her wavy brown hair was lighter than Sam's, more brown than black. It hung loose, just brushing her shoulders. 'Sammy.'

'Hey Sis,' Sam said with a genuine smile, moving forward to her.

Ben pushed the door shut as he spoke. 'He's in one piece, babe,' he said, either reassuring, or encouraging a positive reaction from his wife. Perhaps both.

Sarah feebly rolled her eyes at her husband's words as she stopped in front of her baby brother. 'Is it gonna hurt if I hug you,' she paused, hands in the air.

'I can take it,' Sam replied with faux bravado. She threw her arms around him, a hand clasping the wrist of her other arm. He kissed the side of her head.

'Love you,' Sarah said, pointy chin pressing into the top of his shoulder.

'Love you too, Sarah,' he said. 'Plain and tall,' he added teasingly as he released her, daring to use the nickname that he'd bestowed on her when she was ten or eleven. Much to her horror and his amusement.

She kept her hands loosely on his arms, cocking her head in amused annoyance. 'You're an ass.'

'You and Oliver should form a club,' Sam said with a scoff.

'The _Sam's_ _An_ _Ass_ _Club_? I like it.'

'Now, now, children,' Ben faux scolded, coming to stand beside his wife.

'Speaking of, where's the kid?' Sam asked. His four year old nephew, Alexander, had been born just a few months before Sam went undercover in the (attempted) bust of Anton Hill. He'd been tempted to pass on the op, wishing to be around for Sarah. She'd certainly made known her reluctance for him to go. But it had been a major op and he'd been waiting for a chance like it for a relatively long time. When Sam had called Sarah to tell her he was back because 'some rookie' blew his cover, Sarah had made no attempt to hide her relief. Nor did she hide her delight that Sam was now able to attend Alexander's first birthday party. She'd jokingly asked for 'that rookie's' address to send her a thank you card.

'Stuck in TV-land,' Sarah replied, answering Sam's question about Alexander's presence.

'You know, there was a time when he'd come racing to the door when I came round,' Sam complained, remembering Alexander beetling toward him on little legs that he'd only recently realised he could walk with.

'That was before he discovered _Arthur_,' Ben said, leading her two favourite men towards the living room.

'What the heck is _Arthur_?' Sam asked.

'You know,' Ben said with a scoff. 'That is a very good question.'

x x x

Two days later, Sam was back home. He had enjoyed his time with Sarah, Ben and Alexander, but being one for his own space and his own company, he was happy to be back home. While with his sister's family, he'd learnt that Arthur was a cartoon animal. An aardvark, at least that's what Sarah – and Ben (on Wikipedia) – had said. He'd gone to the park with Sarah and Xander and helped Ben construct a new chest of drawer's they'd bought for Alexander's room. Sarah had made the roast that Sam had been promised and Sam had enjoyed every mouthful.

It was now Monday, a day Andy – like so many others - always hated. The irony was that this Monday, she was finding she hated even more, in spite of the fact that she didn't have to go to work. On the weekend, she could pretend the suspension didn't exist. Weekdays, however, were another story. She'd started to comprehend the plot of daytime soaps, which, okay, were not exactly complex. _But still,_ that's just shameful, she'd thought when she remembered why Brooke was mad at Reginald and how that connected to the scandal with Summer and Brian. _Who the heck I am I?_

Today, Andy had refused to watch daytime television and had filled the day with a lengthy 'walk- run-walk-run' around her new neighborhood, as well as doing laundry and cleaning her already-clean kitchen. Now, she was relaxing on the sofa and flicking through a home decor magazine that she'd bought on a whim. While she was debating if a fabric wall hanging was beyond her limited artistic capabilities, her cell phone rang. She picked it up from the coffee table and looked at the caller ID. It displayed a number neither she, nor her phone could identify. 'Hello?'

'Is this Andy McNally?' The voice was of an older woman, her tone so efficient that it verged on brusque.

Andy was curious, verging on concerned. 'Yeah, this is Andy,' she said.

'I'm calling about your father,' the woman said with deliberate vagueness.

Panic struck Andy immediately. 'Who is this? What's happened?'

'My name's Claire, I lead the AA meetings at McLaren Parish.'

Realisation dawned and she cut to the chase. There was no time for formalities. 'My Dad, is he okay?' She wanted answers and she wanted them fast.

'Yes, he's fine,' the woman assured. 'But when he got here this afternoon it was clear he'd been drinking.

'No, he's been sober -'

Claire cut her off. 'Miss McNally, I know it's difficult to accept. But I can assure you, he has been drinking,' she said firmly. 'And I am not talking about one or two drinks here.'

'Oh my god,' Andy said, sinking down onto the couch, phone gripped tightly to her ear.

He tripped over the front steps and scraped his leg, but he's fine,' she explained.

'Where is he now?'

'He was angry and agitated, and became verbally abusive when we tried to help him.' She sighed. 'Miss McNally, I can't allow him to participate. It would be harmful for the others at the meeting.'

'Yeah. Yeah, I get it,' Andy said hurriedly. 'Can you just tell me where he is?' she said, getting annoyed.

'He's here, he's sitting outside. I'm keeping an eye on him. I told him I'd call a cab, that is normal practice in an instance like this. But he just kept refusing,' she explained. 'We don't normally call family because it is an anonymous program. But he has spoken of you in meetings and Your name and number was given as his emergency contact. I realise this is not an emergency but I was out of options.'

'Okay, yeah, I'm on my way,' Andy replied before ending the call and wedging her phone in her jeans pocket.

Almost on auto-pilot, she threw on her coat and grabbed her wallet and keys, stuffing the keys into the coat pocket and gripping the wallet with the tightness of handcuffs. She flicked off the lights and pulled on her beanie _Is it raining? Snowing?_ She suddenly didn't know.

As she sped through the door of her new home and into the dark night, she tried to convince herself that Claire was mistaken or just exaggerating. _He's_ _sober,_ _he's_ _sober,_ _he's_ _sober._ Her mind repeated it like it was the only two words it knew or the only two words her ears had ever heard. She pulled the door shut behind her and descended the few shallow steps leading to her door. A gust of cold air swept across the sidewalk and up the back of her body, creeping under her coat. She felt it through her shirt and shivered. When the gust of air died, so did her denial. _Here we go again_, she thought.


	5. Chapter V

_AN: I am so, so sorry for the epically long wait. Things have been busy and I was also finding this chapter tough to write. I have been obsessing over it a lot, but I decided it had got to the point where enough was enough. I decided that I had certainly kept you all waiting long enough and that even if I am still not 100% happy with it, I just should accept that I almost never am! Anyway, I hope you like it, sorry it is not the most happy of chapters! Please read anyway though, I promise all will be right in the end. Thank you all for your patience and support and I will try my best not to make you wait anywhere near that long next time. Please review, even a few quick words means a lot and is nicer to read than just seeing a favourites/alerts number change. Thank you and hope you all are well! Oh, and it's been so long you may need to re-read the end of the previous chapter so you remember what's going on! x Mara_

_This chapter is dedicated to svugirl. Sorry it is not a happier one but I hope things are getting better and that this provides a distraction if needed. Much love._

**V:**

Andy's name was a slur on her father's lips. Long 'A' and missing 'Y'. She hadn't heard it like that in a long time. Tommy sat on the concrete steps leading up to the parish. His body was drooped in a slumped position that Andy sometimes saw from the homeless while out on patrol. The overhanging parish roof had kept the top two steps dry in the drizzly conditions, but the wetness of the lower step had soaked through the back of his pants where his calves rest against the side of the step. Andy studied the wet darkening of the khaki fabric. She remembered when her father had insisted they go fishing while on one of their summer camping trips. Andy had been reluctant, but he'd been so keen there had been no room for argument. She hadn't had the heart too, anyway.

While she'd sat on the jetty uncomfortably holding a fishing rod with all the reluctance of a sixteen year old girl – even an outdoorsy one - her father had taken to wading into the lake. _'Up close and personal, best chance of catching them, kiddo!'_ he'd said. He'd – in hindsight perhaps inevitably – ended up going deep into the lake, so that the water had reached well past the top of his old gumboots. Later, she'd laughed hysterically when he had trudged to the bank of the shore, free of any caught fish and accompanied by the squelchy sounds of soggy socks in rubber boots. She remembered how he'd had to tip the water out of his boots before they walked back to the tent, and how he too had laughed when he'd looked down at his pants. Soaked past the knee and smelling like the river. 'Good look, Dad,' she'd said sarcastically. 'Nice fragrance, too.'

It was better than smelling like alcohol, she thought, as her father took a breath and the stench swept toward her, dragging her back to the present.

'What are you doing here?' he said in a grumble like a child to their mother arriving early to collect them from a party.

Andy stood with her hands wedged tightly in her coat pockets and her arms rigid. Determined. No nonsense. She'd learnt long ago that this was really the only way to deal with this situation. Perhaps it's what had made her a good beat cop.

Yet under the guise of her confident stance, she was tired and uncomfortable and she wanted Sam. She'd run to the parish as soon as she got the call from the group leader, getting there in less than twenty minutes. A little breathless, she felt messy too. As she had run, she had felt the cold air swirling in her ears like a whirlpool, the cold cracking her lips and her face reddening as the night air slapped against it.

'Come on, Dad,' she said firmly, deliberately not asking the questions she so wanted to. She pulled her hands from her pockets and helped him up, focusing on getting him home. Then she'd begin the interrogation. 'We're walking.' She hoped the movement and crisp air would help sober him up. At least somewhat. She caught the group leader's eye through the window and they nodded to eachother in mutual gratitude.

Andy held her father's arm and forced him to walk with her. She felt like she was leading a cuffed criminal. It was an uncomfortable feeling. She glanced at the wet ground. The hem of her fleecy sweatpants hung low over her sneakers and collected water and dirt as it dragged along the ground. _'Great,' _she thought. _'Now we match.'_

'Andy,' her father groaned in reluctance as they walked. A reluctance to what, she wasn't sure. Help, she guessed. He'd never been good at taking it. Neither was she, she knew. But she wasn't the alcoholic. Her father deliberately stumbled to the side, pulling away.

'Dad,' she said sternly. She kept a hold on his arm, trying to look him in his unfocused eyes. She felt self-conscious and embarrassed when a car drove past and caught them in its headlights. 'I'm getting you home. Right now.'

She picked up the pace, her grip forcing Tommy to keep up. Minutes passed in silence, less the noise of the occasional passing car and Tommy's incoherent mutters and mumbles. She was glad he lived only a few blocks from the parish, particularly when the drizzle became less drizzle-like and much more like rain. Just before they reached the door of his apartment block, Tommy coughed a cough that quickly turned into a string of spluttered, messy ones.

'Dad,' she said, turning to look at him, a stiff hand on his shoulder. 'Come on, breathe.'

He leant forward to catch his breath, hands on his knees. Then, with a sudden burst of energy and his coughing relenting, he jerked up, pushing her hand away.

'I'm fine..!' Tommy all but shouted, voice deep and gruff, yet strained. His shoulders were hunched and his head hung low, eyes to the ground.

Andy's bottom lip dropped, surprised by his outburst. Then she pressed her lips together, trying to keep her emotions in check. She should be used to her Dad's drunken behaviour, but it had been almost a year since she'd seen him like this. She realised at that moment, that up until today, she'd almost forgotten how he could be. Perhaps allowed herself to believe he wouldn't be like this again.

'Okay, then,' she said after a moment, pushing open the apartment block's heavy door, stepping inside and leaning against it to hold it open. 'Come on.' She said it like a challenge, daring him to make it inside and up the stairs without her help. It took him a few minutes, but he did it. Much like the day when she finally rode a bike without training wheels.

Andy pulled her keys from her coat pocket and opened the door to his apartment. She'd insisted he give her a key, after the time she'd seen him passed out on the couch and had had to bust open a window to get in. She told him she should have had one all along anyway, but he insisted he was fine and not _'some_ _helpless old person.'_

'So are you going to tell me what happened?' Andy asked as her father sunk clumsily onto the well-worn couch, slumping down and letting his head fall back against the top of the backrest.

'I just,' he paused and coughed into his shoulder. He took a deep breath. 'I just had a couple.'

She stood with arms folded, her expression stern and stance now even more assertive. 'Yeah right, a couple. Sure,' she said fast, snippy and sarcastic.

'Andy…'

'No, Dad! We've been through this before!' she said, waving her hands in frustration. 'And you're not even telling me anything! God, you were like, ten months sober! Why would you blow it now?'

'I'm tired…' he said, not looking at her.

'So you're not even going to talk to me?' she snapped, frustrated tears burning in her eyes.

He grumbled something under his breath as he slid further into the couch. Andy knew from experience that he had sobered off enough to have this conversation. He just didn't want to. He was feeling crummy, yes. But she knew that if he wanted to, he'd be able to listen to her and muster more than a monosyllabic reply.

'You know what Dad? I'm tired too.' She said; a little angry and a little confused, but laden with disappointment. She dropped her hands to her jeans half in frustration and half in defeat. They made a gentle thud despite the denim's softness, making her father flinch a little. She sighed and her voice softened. Only a little. 'Alright,' she said. 'Call me when you're going to talk.'

A mumble was all she heard as she left the apartment, deliberately slamming the door behind her.

x x x

'Hey Sammy, I got an idea.' Sam grunted in response, not lifting his chin from where it rest on his clenched hands, elbows resting on the hard wood table. Oliver glared him across the table. 'Earth to Sammy? You listening?'

It was poker night at Sam's, once again. They didn't normally play this often but when Oliver had insisted, Sam knew he was trying to help him keep his mind off Andy. Jerry was there too, losing as always. The game was in full swing and a few beers had been consumed. None of them were drunk, however, but Oliver was not too far from tipsy. He'd never held his alcohol well.

Sam looked up, his eyebrows raised and chin tilted upwards, still balanced on his knuckles. 'I am all ears,' he said to Oliver.

'What do you say whoever wins buys Barber one of those _Dummies_ books? You know, _Poker For Dummies_.'

'I think that is an excellent idea,' Sam said with dramatic enthusiasm. 'If _you_ win,' he added. 'Which you won't,' he said assuredly, playing his turn. A good one, like all his previous ones.

'Come on Sammy, Iwe gotta help the brother out. This is just embarrassing. He's almost skint!' Oliver said, playfully punching Jerry in the shoulder.

'Maybe I just have better things to do with my time than perfect my poker game,' Jerry argued.

'Oh, right, yeah,' Oliver said, as if defeated. Then, 'like perfecting your golf game.' He scoffed with a smile.

'I went golfing _once, _alright?' Jerry defended. 'And only because my ex-father-in-law insisted.'

'That man had you whipped.' Oliver said, saying the last word in a sing-song voice.

'Like you've never done anything to suck up to the in-laws.'

'Didn't need to, they loved me instantly. Love at first sight, my friend.'

Jerry just shook his head and took a sip of his beer. Then he turned his focus to Sam. 'Seriously though, Sammy, you had the right idea never getting married. No in-laws, my friend.'

'Oh, he's still got time, Barber,' Oliver said, shaking his finger at Jerry as if he was speaking words of great importance or truth. 'Don't listen to him, Sammy. You're an old model yes, but you know, vintage is in fashion, my girls tell me.'

'You're a year _older_ than me?' Sam said, baffled.

'Ah, but I wasn't when I got married,' Oliver said. Then paused.

Sam cocked his head and Jerry spluttered a laugh, bringing the back of his hand to his mouth in a feeble attempt to disguise it. 'Okay, so technically I was still a year older than you were _at the time_, yes. But I was younger than you are _now_, you idiots!' Oliver said. 'Anyway, my point is-'

'Do you even have one?' Sam asked.

'Will you just shut up for a minute? God, for a man of few words,' Oliver grumbled as Sam grinned.

'My _point _is that Sammy, there's still hope for you, my friend. Wedding, nice house in the suburbs, 2.5 kids,' he paused. 'A certain someone is bound to want all that right?'

Oliver had never been subtle. Four eyes watched him, awaiting his response. Sam was saved from having to reply, however, when there was a knock at the door.

'Now I'd say speak of the devil but seeing as she's currently off limits…' Oliver teased.

Sam groaned as he stood up to go and answer the door. 'We ordered pizza, remember? Chipping in? he said, sticking a hand out.

'Don't look at me, all my dough's on the table,' Jerry said, gesturing to the pile of notes and coins in the centre of Sam's table. Sam waved with his hand as if dismissing them, groaning as he ambled down the hallway to the front door.

x x x

He pulled the door open. It wasn't the pizza boy.

'Andy, what are you...'

Sam swallowed. He missed her. She looked beautiful. Nervy, agitated, but beautiful.

'I'm sorry,' she said, flustered. She rambled, hastily attempting to explain herself and avoiding his eyes so as not to get lost in them. 'I know I shouldn't be here. I just,' she paused, gathering flying thoughts. 'I really needed to see you.'

'Andy,' he said. She looked up, she couldn't help it. His olive sweater made his eyes seem even darker, but warmer too. 'Are you okay?' he asked. He wanted so badly to touch her and almost lifted his hands to do so. An errant lock of chocolate brown hair tempted him as It blew in front of her eyes. He stopped himself. If he touched her, even barely, he wouldn't let go.

'Yeah,' she lied. 'I just -' she paused.

'You can't be here.' He said, closing his eyes fleetingly. When the opened, they seemed to beg her to understand. He didn't want her to go. But she had to.

The bitter irony almost made Sam sick. All those times he'd wanted her to come to him, she hadn't – or she had and then she'd run. Now, in the last few weeks, she come to him more than once. Calling his cell the night he left, showing up at the Alpine Inn, coming back in later that night. Every time, there'd been some roadblock. Okay, he admitted to himself, so the last one led to the most special few hours of his life. But those hours had not been enough.

'I know,' she said, pausing, unsure how to explain what she was doing there, least of all justify it.

Sam looked back over his shoulder, glancing down the hallway.

Andy tensed. But not in concern of being caught breaking the rules. Something else entirely. _This is Sam_, she reminded herself, certain that he'd never do what Luke had.

But it didn't mean she wouldn't ask. 'You've got company?'

'No, just Oliver and Jerry,' he said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. Yet the concern did not leave his eyes.

She smiled weakly before pressing her lips together tightly and taking a deep breath. 'Sam...' she'd been caught by his eyes and had lost her train of thought. She wasn't even sure she'd had one in the first place. She'd been running – literally – on instinct when she'd left her father's. She'd been restless, lost and confused. Angry at the held-back tears that stung in her eyes as she ran. Angry at her father for causing them.

Sam took a little step closer but still did not touch her. The small movement closer only made it that much harder. He could smell her sweet Andy smell, a scent that had barely been given time to settle on his clothes and sheets. He suspected this torture was worse than what he'd experienced in that barn. 'Andy, you really-' he sighed. 'You gotta go.'

'Yeah,' she said, taken aback but trying to hide it. 'Right, yeah,' she said, embarrassed, downplaying the intensity of the situation with a wave of her hand and a flick of her head as she took a step back.

'Did you walk here?' he asked. 'It's cold.'

'Yeah, I ran, I wasn't far and...' she trailed off and looked at the ground.

'Sammy, get back in here or we're taking our money back!' Oliver's voice bellowed from in the house.

'Yeah..!' he called back distractedly, eyes not leaving Andy.

'Andy,' he said softly, pausing and trying to get her to meet his eyes. She did, fleetingly. Then she looked away quickly as if she'd just stared into the sun. 'Here, take my truck,' he said, taking a step back and turning to grab his keys from the table in the hallway. 'I'll walk over to Traci's tomorrow and pick it up. He held out the keys.

'No, uh. It's okay. I moved into my new place anyway, so,' she moved clumsily down the front steps. 'I'll be fine,' she said as she reached the bottom step. She gave him a pathetic smile and stepped onto the sidewalk.

He found himself taking another step forward, fighting the urge to follow her. The cold air nipped at his skin. 'Andy…' he began, despite being unsure of what he could say. He pressed his hands to the top of his head and closed his eyes in frustrated heartache, hoping she'd reply and at the same time, hoping she wouldn't. If she did, if they talked any longer - he knew he was a goner. He'd pull her inside, not caring if it was against the rules and Oliver and Jerry saw. He'd tuck her under the covers of his bed and get her to talk to him as her scent finally got a chance to linger. His eyes opened. Back to reality. She was out of sight. He descended the steps and stepped out on the sidewalk

He watched as her form retreated down his street, gaining speed as she turned from walking to running. He fought a battle with himself, desperately wanting to follow her or call her cell and tell her to come back.

It was only when Oliver called out again a few seconds later that he accepted defeat.

'Come on, Sammy!'

He sighed a broken sigh and went back to a game he could win.


	6. Chapter VI

_AN: Here's chapter six! That wasn't too long a wait was it? Well, better than last time, anyway. I hope you like this chapter! I promise it will all work out in the end. Thank you for your reviews, they really keep me motivated. Also, how exciting is it that it's just a few weeks until RB season three! That said, I had intended to have this fanfiction almost done by the time season three started. But that is definitely not going to happen. So I hope you don't lose interest when the show returns, despite the fact that I have taken Sam/Andy in my own direction and that my story won't fit with canon anymore. Anyway, please leave a review. I appreciate every single one. Thanks for reading and have a great weekend. x_

**VI:**

Sam rubbed his right hand against his forehead with the vehemence of a drowning swimmer slapping against the current. With each move of his hand, it was as if he was erasing the image of Andy's big brown eyes wearing shame and sadness like broken armour. Her doe eyes fighting a flood. Sam's hand fell. The battle deemed futile.

The image wasn't going anywhere.

But neither was he.

Jerry and Oliver were scoffing pizza at his dining table – _there'd better be some left when I get back_ – while he'd disappeared to his bedroom. '_I gotta take a leak,_' he'd said. Yet he was in the bedroom. Not bathroom. Not that they'd notice. Or care.

He gripped his cell phone in his left hand, the pain he should feel somehow absent. With his fallen right hand, he navigated to his phone's contact list. He'd had to find the urge to resist pressing the three button. _She probably wouldn't pick up, anyway. _He scrolled past Best, winced at Callaghan. Kept scrolling. Paused. McNally. Right there challenging his will. Less so than the first time tonight, but his defense was getting weaker with each instance. He sighed, cursing the fact that M came before N. He pressed the down arrow once more. Hit call.

He kicked his bedroom door shut and leant back against it. Waited with the phone to his ear. The ringing stopped and he spoke before the other person could even utter a syllable.

'Nash, it's Swarek,' he said into the phone, head hung low as he stared at the old floorboards.

'Sir, what's going on?' she asked, her voice formal.

'Listen, I know it's late,' he rubbed his forehead again. Agitated. Embarrassed, perhaps. Not a feeling he was accustomed to. 'But I need a favor. It's not work related.'

'Andy?' her voice was neutral, as if reserving judgment or reaction.

_Right. Of course she knows whom this is about._

'Is she okay?' Traci asked.

He didn't know. He _hated_ that he didn't know.

'Just,' he paused to let out a sigh. 'Can you just do me a favor and go see her? The sooner the better. I think she could use some company.'

'What did you –' Traci paused. He sensed the accusation in her words, and knew she was rethinking them. She sighed. 'What happened?' she tried again.

'Just go see her,' he said. _'Please_,' he said with his jaw set tight.

'Okay,' she said simply. He heard the jingle of keys.

'Thanks,' Sam said with minimal grumble, hanging up before Traci could say any more.

x x x

Andy's hair was wet from her shower, dripping down through the grey cotton of her long-sleeve henley. She grabbed a dry towel and rubbed it furiously over her hair. She'd run home from Sam's and almost collapsed into the sofa as soon as she made it through her new front door. Dry sweat and wet tears that had finally escaped had joined with the dampness of light raindrops that clung to her skin. Sinking into the couch, she'd taken deep breaths to calm herself. A stitch had pinched in her gut.

She'd shifted onto the hard floor, stretching her body as if on a torture rack. Head under the coffee table, arms outstretched above her head, toes pointed like the dancer she'd never been. The last of her tears had ended as puddles in her ears. The sound of her breathing had become muffled.

Minutes had passed before she hauled herself up and into the bathroom, taking a shower with water that left her skin red. Not burnt. Just coloured. She hadn't washed, the soap and shampoo staying untouched. She hadn't been bothered. She'd stood still and let the hot water do as best a job as it could on it's own.

She tossed the towel over the back of a dining chair and grabbed a hairbrush, fighting the tangles she'd created. Quickly satisfied, she tossed the hairbrush onto the coffee table and sat down on the couch. She pulled some socks from a basket of unfolded laundry, lurking at the foot of the couch. She pulled them onto her bare feet. Her toenails were red, almost visible through the striped ivory and grey cotton.

There was a knock at the door. Andy sank further into the couch in reluctance. Another knock came.

'Andy?' Traci called out when her friend still didn't come to the door.

Traci had left a sleeping Leo in the safe care of her mother. She'd grabbed her keys, any munchies she could find in the cupboard – chocolate-backed teddy bear biscuits would have to do – and driven to Andy's.

'Andy, open up. It's me.'

Andy relented, opening the front door.

'Hey,' she greeted Traci, mustering a pathetic smile.

'Sam called me,' Traci admitted.

'Right,' Andy said simply. She didn't seem surprised. Nor glad. Nor annoyed. Traci squinted a little as if trying to read her friend's face.

'Were _you _going to call me?' Traci asked, tilting her head a little and raising her brows.

'Probably not,' Andy said honestly, giving her friend a warm smile. Nothing personal, it said.

'Andy…' Traci said, more with disappointment than pity.

Traci stepped inside and Andy pushed the door shut. Traci waited until Andy turned back to face her. Then she hugged her friend.

x x x

Andy snapped the head off the teddy bear biscuit.

'Leo does that,' Traci said. 'I try not to think it means he's showing violent tendencies.'

'Well, if it does, at least he's not alone,' Andy said, gesturing to herself with the teddy's body that she held in her left hand, tossing the head into her mouth with her right one. She licked chocolate from her fingers.

Traci laughed. Then, with deliberate grandeur, she pulled off her boots and stretched her legs out onto the coffee table, a clear indication she wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

'So. What happened?'

'What do you mean?' Andy played dumb.

'Don't even try it. Sam Swarek doesn't just call me at ten o'clock at night for no reason. Plus, your eyes are red and puffy.'

'Thanks,' Andy said, sarcastically rolling her eyes. Perhaps trying to hide them, too.

'You've been crying,' Traci stated obviously.

Andy shrugged. 'I had a hot shower.'

Traci's eyes narrowed and her head dropped, looking at Andy with half-lidded eyes that said I'm not buying it.

Andy's raised her brows. 'What?'

Traci pull off her chunky purple scarf and threw it down in her lap, then turned her body join her head in facing her friend, her legs falling from the coffee table.

'You're _really_ going to try that?' Traci said in response to Andy's feeble explanation.

Andy was silent. Reached for another biscuit from the box wedged between them.

'Alright. We're just going to sit here. Eat Leo's biscuits,' she laughed, 'And drink our tea. And when you're ready, you'll talk to me.'

Andy nodded a little, lips pressed together as if holding back words or tears. Both, perhaps. Andy took a sip of tea from the dotty red mug she'd bought as part of a set a week or so ago. New place, new things.

Satisfied, Traci turned back around, putting her legs back on the coffee table, careful not to knock over her own dotty mug that rest near the corner. She bit into a biscuit. And another. She was reaching for a third when she realised Andy had gone still. No biscuit eating. No tea sipping.

'Andy...?' Traci turned to face her.

'My dad's drinking again.' She broke the brief silence, speaking a hard truth in a matter-of-fact way that Traci had heard from her once before. She'd been beside her then, too.

'Oh, Andy…' Traci cringed at the unintentional pity in her own voice.

'And I don't know _why_, or for how _long_. I don't know anything, really. I just got a call from the person in charge of his meeting. I had to go and get him because he showed up,' she paused as if to reconcile herself to what she was saying. 'He showed up _drunk_,' she emphasised her words with her hands. 'And then I just ended up at Sam's. I just needed to see him, you know? But he told me I couldn't. He basically told me to go,' she said in a rush. Then she pressed her lips together again and waited.

Traci reached across and took Andy's hand. She held it tight.

'I just – I don't want to be that idiot girl. Again!'

'Andy…' Traci began. 'Look at me.'

Andy turned to face Traci. Her face was surprising controlled.

'You're not an idiot. But for the record, neither is Sam.'

'What?'

'He's not _Luke_, Andy. He didn't mess up. He sent you home because he _had _to. Not because he _wanted_ to.'

'He didn't have to.'

'Yes, _he did_, Andy. You're suspended. Breaking the rules again… he's not going to let you lose your job.'

'That's my decision,' she said stubbornly. 'He's just thinking about himself.'

'Okay, listen. I know you're upset, but you're saying things you don't really mean. Things you're going to wish you hadn't said. And this anger right now? It's not Sam you're really mad at.'

'Okay, Dr Nash,' Andy teased jokingly. 'Tell me, who _am _I mad at then?' she challenged with eyebrows raised.

'Your Dad.'

Andy paused, her face softening as realisation dawned.

'Oh god, Traci,' she dropped her face to her hands, then lifted it when she continued. 'I don't know what to do. I don't know if I can help him again. Especially not now, I have enough on my plate with this suspension and Sam and I just – I've been here before, you know? Last time. I told him I was done with it. I wasn't going to pick up the pieces anymore. But he convinced me not to give up on him. And then when he stuck to his word and started going to his meetings, I was glad I didn't.'

'But now?' Traci asked softly, almost as if with caution.

'_Now_ he's thrown it away. He was nearly a year sober, Trace. _A year_.'

'Did you ask him what happened?'

'Yeah, of course. He wouldn't tell me anything.' Her tone was frustrated. 'For all I know he could've started just started drinking again because of me!'

'What are you talking about?'

'He could be mad that I'm suspended.'

'Did he seem mad when you told him?'

'No but - '

'Exactly,' Traci said. 'It's not like his career was squeaky clean.'

'Yeah, which is exactly why he probably expects more from me.'

Traci shook her head. 'Alright, listen,' she said, waiting for Andy to look at her. 'You don't have to worry about it right now, okay? You got him home; he's sleeping it off. There's nothing you can do right now. So let's just let it go for now and finish these damn addictive biscuits and, I don't know... watch some crappy TV.' She picked up the TV remote from where it rest on the coffee table by her legs, flicking on the TV.

'Great plan, Trace,' Andy said sarcastically with a half-laugh. She blew out a breath, pouting her bottom lip to direct the air upwards so that it could shift a lock of hair out of her eyes. It didn't really work. She didn't seem to care.

'You know what? _It is_,' Traci defended with an unoffended laugh.

'Letterman?' Andy queried when Traci settled on a channel and leant back into the couch, content.

'I said crappy, didn't I?' Traci said.

Andy scoffed a little, nodding.

'Hey Trace?' Andy said a brief moment later.

'Mm?'

'Thanks,' Andy said, sincerity in her words. Letterman's audience laughed. Traci didn't.

'You're welcome,' she said.

x x x

When Andy awoke the next morning, she was surprised by the brightness of the room. She fumbled for her watch on her bedside table. Rubbing a sleepy eye with her left hand, her right one flipped her watch over so the face was upwards. She read the time. Almost noon. _Wow,_ she thought. _Okay, apparently I needed that sleep-in. _Despite the time, she still felt sleepy and made no immediate rush to get up, tucking back down into the cozy warmth of her bed.

Then, as fate would have it, there was a loud knock at her front door.

She groaned. She wasn't expecting anyone and was baffled. _Traci? Dad? No, too early for him. Considering._

She pulled a grey hoodie on over the tank top she'd slept in, conscious of her lack of bra. Her plaid pajama pants were long enough to graze the floor as she ambled toward the front door.

She pulled it open.

'Luke,' she said as if processing his presence.

Luke Callaghan stood on her doorstep dressed in crisp slacks and a coat that hung open revealing the front of his shirt - plaid, like her pants. Andy remembered that she'd once commented on them matching. It had been a night when he came home late and found her tucked up on the couch in her pajamas.

'We look like a dorky couple,' she'd said.

'Lucky it's just us, then...' he'd said with lame seduction, leaning down to kiss her neck.

It was only a few days later that she'd learned about him and Jo.

'Hey,' Luke said, shaking her from the bittersweet memory. More bitter, less sweet, really.

'What are you doing here?' she asked.

'Sorry, did I wake you up?' he asked, taking in her appearance.

'No, I was awake,' she said, subconsciously folding her arms across her chest. 'Come in, it's cold,' she said when the chill nipped at her feet and face, sweeping in through the open door.

'It's okay, I won't stay,' he said. _Okay, I was more thinking about the cold air you are letting into my house, not your discomfort at standing in it_, she thought, realising that maybe she'd regressed back to the stage of anger. At least after the events of yesterday, despite the fact they had nothing to do with Luke.

'Okay...' Andy said, prompting an explanation for his visit.

He held up a regular sized envelope. 'This came in the mail today and it was addressed to you. Figured I'd drop it round.'

'You didn't have to that,' she said.

'It's no big deal, I had to pass here anyway. I'm on my way to a crime scene,' he gestured over his shoulder with the envelope.

'In my area? Great,' she said sarcastically.

'No, don't worry, I've got another twenty minutes to drive. You're safe,' he said with a slight laugh.

'Okay,' she said with a weak smile. It was awkward, him being at her house. Sam hadn't even been there yet. _Does it count if Luke doesn't come inside?_

'Here,' he said, handing her the envelope

She took it and saw her name and address - well, Luke's - were handwritten in black pen. She flipped it over and saw no return address. Her brow furrowed in thought, thought that was only fleeting, for Luke spoke again.

'Anyway, I better get going,' he said.

'Thanks for dropping this off,' she said, flicking her wrist to indicate the envelope.

'Yeah, no problem,' Luke said, wedging his hands in his coat pockets. He looked her in the eye. 'Take care of yourself, Andy.'

She nodded. 'Yeah,' she said. 'Thanks.'

Luke smiled tightly, almost as if he wanted to say more, or perhaps as if the awkwardness was only just settling in on him.

As Luke left, Andy shut the door behind him and looked down at the envelope as she ambled towards the kitchen for her belated morning coffee. As she looked at the dense black ink, she realised the handwriting looked familiar. She had been about to open it, but paused, feeling apprehensive for a reason she couldn't explain. She brought the envelope closer to her face and studied it closely. The dramatic flourish of the lowercase 'f', the loopy tail of the 'y'. It was so familiar. She knew she'd seen it before.

Her heartbeat sped up as realisation came as quick and hard as a shot in the gut.

The writing was her mother's.


	7. Chapter VII

_AN: Sorry for the wait, but here is chapter seven! It was a bit tough to write but I hope that you guys like it! Thanks for sticking with this fic even though Sam and Andy have been apart for most it. They won't be apart forever and this chapter brings us much, much closer, people! You'll see! There is a flashback in this chapter which is indicated by italics and with single x before and after it, separating it. Just in case that isn't clear. Thank you all for your support and for assuring me that you'd continue to read even though the new season has started and is obviously taking a different route. I was very glad to hear that my readers wouldn't disappear! Want to prove it and leave a review? Ha! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy! Find my thread on Two Worlds Collide (the Sam and Andy forum) for the occasional update as to how fast the next chapter is progressing. x_

**VII:**

Andy's nervous fingertips left damp patches against the ivory stock of the envelope. She gripped it as if it required great effort, as if it were made of lead. It had been many long minutes since Luke had dropped off the letter. After he'd left, Andy had hoisted herself up onto the kitchen counter - cold through her pajamas - and let her legs dangle like untied shoe laces, her eyes on the envelope in her shaky hands. She had been sitting there ever since. The minutes had ticked by. She hadn't even poured her coffee.

_Just open it, _she told herself. _Open it._

She couldn't.

She wished Sam were there.

She'd ask him to read it first.

He'd refuse and encourage.

_It's for you, McNally._

Frustrated, she tossed the envelope to the side and slid off the kitchen counter. She ran her hands over her hair in frustration as she crossed the room, heading for the bathroom. She hadn't yet had a shower and felt messy from sleep.

She stopped abruptly at the bathroom door. She sighed, stomped a foot like the stubborn child she'd once been and turned back toward the kitchen. She moved quickly as if conscious of the real possibly of losing her nerve. Boldly marching up to the counter, she picked the envelope up from where it had fallen in the sink. A corner was wet. A lonely droplet dripped onto her pajama pants. She suspected it wouldn't be alone for long. She looked down at the envelope once more. Briefly. _Like a bandaid_, she told herself. She ripped it open.

_Dear Andy,_

_I hope your father told you to expect this letter. I left a message on his answering machine asking him to, but I don't know if he did or even if he got the message. Either way, I am sorry to contact you so suddenly. I know it must be a shock and I am sorry for that._

_I won't ask you questions about your life. I know I lost that right a long time ago. But I hope you are well and that the years have been good to you. I really hope you can believe me on that, at least._

_I am writing to you about your grandfather. I am sorry to have to tell you that he died last week. As I am sure you remember, he had dementia and while he was physically healthy for years in his nursing home here, over the last couple of months he had come to have trouble swallowing his food. Then last week, he suffered a severe stroke and fell into a coma. He died a couple of hours later. I was with him - he wasn't alone._

_I know you haven't seen him in years, at least as far as I know, but I also know that you were once close. He loved your afternoon visits and he was so proud of you, Andy. Anyway, I thought I would pass along the funeral information in case you want to attend. You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to, I will keep my distance. I think he would have liked for you to be there._

_The funeral is on Friday at eleven, here in Kingston at the James Reid Funeral Home. The address is below._

_James Reid Funeral Home_

_1900 John Counter Blvd.,_

_Kingston_

_With my love,_

_Mom_

Andy's whole body was shaking, so slightly that even if she weren't alone, no one would be able to tell. Sam would be the exception. She felt numb. The shaking of her body was the only warning she was getting that her emotions were indeed bubbling away, waiting to boil over.

She hadn't seen her grandfather for almost as long as she hadn't seen her mother. Her mother held the blame for that, at least somewhat. She remembered a day in the spring when she was twelve and had knocked on her grandfather's door one day after school. He usually opened the door quickly. Not that day...

x

_'No one lives there, love.'_

_Andy turned around, startled. Her thick plaited hair flicked over her shoulder. A man in his sixties stood on the sidewalk. He had grey hair that was still thick and a scruffy beard that seemed more one of laziness than one of style. He wore a khaki shirt that was tucked into his brown trousers. Tree-like outfit, Andy thought._

_'Sorry, didn't mean to frighten you,' he said, lifting a hand in apology and giving a warm smile. His other hand held onto the lead of a small scruffy dog that sat obediently at his master's feet._

_'That's okay,' Andy said, a little wary. Daughter-Of-A-Cop instincts. 'But uh, my grandfather lives here so...' She gestured to the house and shrugged at the man only slightly awkwardly. She fiddled with the hem of her lightweight red sweater._

_'William? You're his granddaughter?'_

_'Yeah,' she confirmed. 'You know him?'_

_'Not well, but we've chatted every once in a while. I live just down the road.' The man gestured behind him with a jerk of his head. The dog took a few scurried steps in that direction, mistaken. He whined a little when his master didn't follow and the lead prevented any further adventure._

_'Felix, sit,' the man said commandingly, looking down at the animal._

_Andy smiled. The name did not suit the dog. The man looked up at her once Felix had planted his rear end back on the pavement._

_'My wife, an unusual wit, she's got,' he began to explain, phrasing his sentence like Yoda. 'Thought she'd even the balance or something. You know, Felix the Cat...'_

_'Felix the Dog,' Andy concluded with an understanding nod._

_'That's it,' the man said, flicking a pointed finger toward her in confirmation. He laughed a little. Then, as if suddenly realising he hadn't introduced himself, he hurried to correct it. 'Oh, I'm Ed. Beg your pardon, forgetting to introduce myself. Lucky my wife's not here, let me tell you.' He laughed again._

_Andy laughed back. Just a little. She seemed to sense this man would quite happily chat away all day and didn't particularly want to encourage it. She had a grandfather to see, homework to do and dinner to prepare. Most importantly, she wanted to be home before her dad. She didn't trust him to arrive home to an empty house and resist the drink. Especially if the work day had been a tough one._

_The drinking hadn't been so bad before her mother left. It had by no means been rare for him to have one too many, but it wasn't until after her mother left that Andy had found her father passed out on the couch. Her father was closed off, she knew, and refused to talk about the stresses of his work life. Even to his wife. But it wasn't any reason for her to up and leave in the middle of the night. Yet that was what she had done. Even more than that, it certainly wasn't any reason for her to leave her daughter behind._

_It had been two months since her mother had left. Andy had always visited her grandfather once or twice a week after school. She'd continued to do so, even after his daughter - Andy's mother - had left. The first time, just a week after her mother had left, her Grandpa had assured Andy that her mother would no doubt be back in no time. The second time, a week later, he told her he did not understand his daughter's actions. Andy had asked him if they could talk about something else. He'd relented, reluctantly, but she'd seen the helplessness in his tired, old eyes._

_On that visit, Andy had noticed that her Grandpa was more addled than usual. He asked her how college was, even though she was in middle school. He asked if she was staying for lunch, even though it was much closer to dinnertime. He had been a bit foggy for some time, but that day, Andy had noticed it was worse. She had assumed it was just an off day, but the next time she visited was just the same. The time after that, when she commented on needing to buy some new sneakers, he'd suggested that her mother take her on the weekend._

_Each visit since then, he had talked about his daughter with no memory of what she had done. No memory of the fact that she had up and left her husband and child. Each time, Andy had wished she were in his place. He talked about Andy's mother calling him most evenings. But Andy hadn't known if this were true or if he was simply confused. Nor had she known which answer she would prefer._

_Andy had tuned out, her mind falling into the recent memory. When a car sped past, she snapped back to the moment and brought her eyes back to the man and dog in front of her. Ed looked at her, awaiting her own introduction._

_'I'm Andy,' she said with a smile she knew was weak._

_'Well, nice to meet you Andy,' Ed said. 'But I thought I heard that your grandfather had moved.'_

_'What? No, he hasn't...' Andy trailed off as if doubting her own words. She turned back to the house. The curtains were drawn._

_'Sorry, love, I probably heard wrong,' Ed said. 'Your grandfather's neighbours are a young couple with triplets, heard it from them. But with the stress of three little ones, their heads are probably all confused.' He laughed, seemingly trying to lighten the mood. Andy could tell that he didn't believe his own explanation and was simply using it to try to back-pedal._

_'Anyway, I won't keep you,' Ed said with a wave of the hand. 'I live down the road in the house with the red fence, if you need any help or anything. Family with triplets lives just there, if you want to ask them,' he gestured to the house to the right of her grandfather's._

_'Okay, thanks.'_

_'Say goodbye, Felix,' Ed spoke to his dog. Much to Andy's surprise, Felix gave a playful bark in farewell._

_x_

It had been fifteen years ago, but Andy still remembered that day. There had been no answer at the door and the couple with the triplets had confirmed that he had indeed moved. Andy had pretended to have known already and said that she was just checking to make sure that his neighbours knew. Kingston, they had said. He's in Kingston. She'd cried that night for the first time in days. All she knew about where her mother had gone was that it was somewhere in Kingston. And, it seemed, she had taken her grandfather, too.

Her mother had called the next day to speak to Tommy about their combined finances and it was then that Andy received something of an explanation. She had been the one to answer the phone and had immediately demanded an answer. '_Where the hell is Grandpa?'_ She had said, spitting the words into the phone with something an outsider would describe as teenage anger that was a year premature. Her mother had calmly told Andy that her grandfather had been diagnosed with dementia and so she had moved him to a nursing home close to her. He needed family support, she had said. Andy had slammed the phone down and stormed off to her room. Her mother had dared to call back. Tommy had answered this time, and Andy had heard him speak with controlled anger and more than that - with pain. He'd drunk a whole bottle of whiskey that night.

Andy put the letter down next to her on the kitchen counter of her warm new house that suddenly felt cold. The numbness was quickly started to give way. Guilt crept to the service. _You should have visited him, Andy. Now it's too late._ One weekend when she was thirteen, Andy had skipped a day of school and taken a train to Kingston with the intention of visiting him. Yet when she got to the nursing home, the woman at the reception desk had told her that his daughter was in with him but that she was welcome to join them. He only had one child. One daughter. Andy's mother. Andy had rambled something about having forgotten that she had to be somewhere. Then she'd made a beeline for the door leaving a confused receptionist in her wake.

She had not gone back.

Even as an adult, she hadn't dared return. She hadn't wanted to risk running into her mother. She had justified it by saying that her grandfather wouldn't remember if she had been there or not. Every time she told herself that, she hated herself a little bit. Then life got in the way. She finished high school, joined the academy and started working at fifteen. She'd grouped her grandfather in with her mother and an early life that, for the most part, she wished to forget.

Now, she hated herself for it.

Tears pricked at her eyes. She felt wetness on her cheeks as the guilt quickly spilled over, pushed ahead by sadness that could not be restrained.

x x x

Sam knocked on the door of Tommy's apartment, feeling unusually uneasy about a decision he had made. He wasn't one for second-guessing or hours of internal debate. But at this moment, he really wasn't sure if this was the right move.

Sam didn't make a habit of butting into other people's business, generally standing back when matters didn't concern him. There'd been a kid at his elementary school who had been accident prone. Each time Aimee Brown had fallen from the play equipment or tripped down the stairs, whatever minor injury she had procured had always been exaggerated by a melodramatic display of self-pity. Some of Sam's friends, just starting to be interested in girls, had always rushed over to her and feigned immense care. Aimee always ended up with a group of kids around her fussing over her just the way she liked. Even girls had sucked up to her and fawned over her, reassuring her that she was okay, even when it was quite obvious that Aimee knew that as well as they did. Sam had always stood back and wondered who was the bigger faker - Aimee herself, or the kids around her pretending to care.

It was the early afternoon. Around lunchtime, Sam had got a phone call from Traci. She had text him the night before, after she had seen Andy.

'_She's okay,' _it had said simply.

Sam had replied with _'Thanks'_ and then quickly added something before hitting send. _'Are you sure?'_

Another text did not come. Sam knew it would be overstepping the mark to call or text her again, so when this morning had come, he had gone for a run and vacuumed his apartment - keeping himself busy. But then, his phone had rung.

He had been eating a burger that he had picked up at a takeaway place down the road. He had only just got home when he felt the vibration of his phone in his pocket. Traci had hurriedly told him that she was breaking the 'girl code' by telling him anything Andy had said, but that she thought he needed to know.

_Tommy was drinking again._

And so he found himself at Tommy McNally's front door. Just an hour or so later. The force had turned their back on Tommy after his less than stellar final years on the job. If you asked Sam, they had a lot to answer for. Perhaps he himself did, too. But he had only been a rookie and they had only briefly worked together. He hadn't known him all that well.

He wasn't sure what he was doing there exactly. He just wanted to check in, offer some brief company and attempt some subtle words of advice, if the opportunity presented itself. Perhaps it would help. This was too much for McNally to handle by herself. On second thoughts, maybe not. She was more than capable. From what Sam knew, she'd handled it for years. But the point was that she shouldn't _have_ to do it by herself. Not anymore.

'Swarek,' Tommy mumbled as he pulled the door open, leaning on it heavily.

'Tommy,' Sam nodded at him. 'How are you?' Sam asked casually.

'What are you doing here, Swarek?' Tommy asked gruffly. It was clear he wasn't entirely impressed about Sam's impromptu visit. Sam could smell the alcohol on his breath. His appearance was unkempt, but then, Sam knew he didn't look so crash hot himself. He hadn't been bothered to shave this morning and he was still wearing the black sweatpants and maroon t-shirt that he'd worn on his run.

'Just thought I'd stop by.' Sam shrugged. 'Mind if I come in?' he asked. It was blatantly rhetorical. After all, he was already making his way past Tommy into his apartment.

'Big night last night?' Sam asked, noticing the empty bottles lying on the sofa.

'You know, I don't think it's any of your business,' Tommy said, pushing the door shut and scratching at his chin.

'Not trying to step on your toes, Tommy,' Sam said with the coolness of a negotiator. 'But I'm worried about Andy.'

'Why, what happened?' Tommy asked.

'You,' Sam said. 'This,' he nodded his head toward the empty bottles.

Tommy looked off to the side. He wore thinking eyes that Sam had seen on McNally.

'Listen, I know you think I should just butt out. But Andy, your _daughter _- she showed up on my doorstep last night. In tears.' _Well, not quite, but as good as. _'And I am sure you know as well as I do that in itself is a goddamn rarity,' Sam said with a fleeting smile that did nothing to mask the intensity of his voice. 'This hurts her, Tommy. That's all I'm saying.'

Tommy let out a long sigh and nodded, his chin falling to his chest as he ambled over to the couch, plopping himself down next to some of the bottles.

Sam moved toward the couch and picked up some of the bottles. He held three with one hand with the skill of a bartender. The mess suggested Andy had not been there today. He wondered if she was deliberately keeping her distance, too angry or exhausted to deal. He smiled, knowing it wouldn't last long. Andy's heart would never let her give up on someone, try as she might.

'Leave it,' Tommy said with a wave of the hand, not even looking up at Sam.

Sam knew Tommy was embarrassed and that this was the reason for his words, rather than the desire to be polite by insisting a guest not clean up. Sam had spied one bottle of liquor with a good inch of liquid still at the base. And while he didn't want to offend Tommy, he wanted that liquid down the drain. It's what Andy would do, he knew.

'Just making some room,' Sam said, nodding his head to the bottle-covered couch. It was a feeble excuse, being that he didn't intend on staying long and even if he did, there was an unoccupied armchair across the room.

Tommy grumbled a reply as Sam carried the bottles to the kitchen. He was just pouring the remaining liquid down the sink when he heard a knock at the door.

'Dad, open up!'

_Damn it. Thank God._

Sam learnt at that moment that, without a doubt, it was possible to feel two opposite emotions at the exact same second. He wanted so badly to see her. To explain that he hadn't wanted to send her away the night prior. To hold her close and tell her that he'd help her with her Dad. Or support her if she wanted to bow out. He knew she never would be able to, but he'd go along with it for as long as he could. At the same time, he wanted nothing more than to somehow disappear from Tommy's ninth floor apartment. He couldn't risk her job. And with her father there, it would be even more awkward.

Sam leant against the kitchen sink as he heard the door shut. He should go, straight away. Just walk out the door. But sending her away had been one thing. Actually being the one to leave? That was another. Sending her away had been hard enough, the latter seemed impossible.

'Sam?'

He turned around from the sink. There she stood. She was as still as a statue, completely taken aback. Only once had her seen her stand so still – after she had been forced to take a human life one hot day just months into the job.

'Hey,' Sam said with a closed-lip grin, looking her in the eye.

Tommy lurked a distance behind Andy, watching them. Protective and aware. Sam watched as Andy's posture relaxed, the shock at seeing him slowly easing. She lifted her shoulders and fiddled with her watch. She wore a grey hoodie that he remembered seeing on her before. One evening in the locker room and once or twice since then. Her eyes looked like they had the night before. But worse. The pain ran deeper and the directionlessness could not hide. He knew, in that moment, that the decision had been made for him.

He couldn't walk away.


	8. Chapter VIII

_AN: Sorry for the epic wait, I was having a bit of a writer's block. I think I have mostly got past it, but this chapter is a teeny bit shorter than normal. Sorry about that, but I felt it was a good place to stop and I also didn't want to keep you waiting any longer! Thanks to those who voted for this fic in the RB Fic Awards. It didn't win, but it was an honour to be nominated – especially in amongst all the big names. However, unexpectedly and very excitingly, I was equal winner in the romance category, for this story's prequel Just Say Yes! That was very unexpected, so thanks to those who voted! I am so sorry for the wait, but thanks for sticking with me. It means so much. Please review and I hope you enjoy this chapter! You may need to reread the last one, cause I made you wait so long! We pick up right where the previous one left off. x_

**VIII:**

Andy felt her surprise swiftly give way to relief. She had by no means expected to visit her father and find Sam standing in his kitchen, but the fact that he was? It wasn't entirely unwelcome. The last time she had seen him... well, _brief _would be one way to describe it. Thwarted was another. She had been furiously upset by his instance that she couldn't be there, with him. At the time, her heart had heard his _'you shouldn't be here'_ as a stinging, familiar _'it was what it was'_. But after talking with Traci, she had accepted that his actions had not been ones of rejection.

Or at least, she had mostly accepted it.

She couldn't deny that some hurt still brewed under the surface of her skin. She had, numerous times since it had happened just the night before, had to stop herself from overthinking it. She had strayed dangerously close to a relapse of anger when she had concluded that, had their roles been reversed, she would not have been able to send him away. She had - amazing herself - pushed those thoughts away with a particularly vigorous session at the gym. Her local gym, that was. She'd signed up at the start of her suspension, previously having stuck to the one at the barn. It was free, after all. But the need for a new one was simply another downside to the suspension. It was a small one, but frustrating none the less.

Sam looked at Andy from across the small, old kitchen. He wore the expression of a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. His lips parted but he was silent, seemingly waiting for her to speak. As always, it didn't take long.

'Sam.' She swallowed. 'What are you doing here?'

'Just dropped in on Tommy.' Sam spoke vaguely. It was his specialty, she'd come to ascertain.

Andy's gaze dropped. There were beer bottles by the sink.

_No surprise there._

Tommy stood in the living room, visible through the open doorway that led to the small kitchen. Sam caught his eye over Andy's shoulder, conscious of his presence and the fact that he and Andy were not alone. Sam had not expected that the next time he saw Andy would be in the presence of her father. When he had first arrived at Tommy's apartment building just minutes ago, he had listened at the thin front door, checking for the familiar sound of Andy's voice. He'd heard nothing but silence, so had knocked and waited. He hadn't been certain that he would be able to turn around, even if he had heard her voice. Sending her away had been hard enough, but being the one to do the walking away? That would have been even harder.

As Sam read the stern expression on Tommy's haggard face, he remembered a similar situation during his senior year of high school. The image of a father and daughter looking at him with a old family recipe of emotion hung like a banner in his mind. He'd failed to return her calls - Ruby, her name had been. He had discovered that a week of silence meant more to a teenage girl than he had ever anticipated, and so too, he had also learnt, to her overprotective father. _'I don't want you disappointing my daughter,' _Ruby's father had said.

As his eyes drifted from father back to daughter, Sam concluded that the look on Andy's face was not one of disappointment. For this, he was grateful.

But then, a serious, determined expression swept over her features.

'You can't...' She paused and let out a breath. 'You should go,' she said reluctantly.

Sam stood in place, not budging. Andy took it as a queue to continue. 'We can't see each other. You said it yourself.'

'Yeah well, I was an idiot.'

'What?' Andy said, a little snippy.

'You needed me,' he said, matter-of-fact, as if that were all that mattered. Sam seemed unfussed by Tommy's presence. He wasn't put off from saying what needed to be said.

Andy looked at him, thoughts playing like a slideshow on her face. Slowly, she nodded. Without words, she turned and walked toward her father. She disregarded Sam, accepting his presence. Perhaps welcoming it.

She pulled the letter from her coat pocket and thrust it into her father's rough hands.

'What's this?' Tommy asked.

'Read it,' Andy said firmly, as if speaking to a suspect.

Sam had left the kitchen, moving into the living room but keeping his distance, as much as the small room would allow. He stood like an actor waiting in the wings, unsure if they had missed their queue. His eyes were on Andy.

Tommy followed his daughter's orders, reading the letter slowly. After a few long moments, he lowered the letter and sat down on the couch, lifting his head to look up at his daughter.

'Andy…' he mumbled, though it was clear that he didn't know what he was going to say next.

It didn't matter. She didn't give him the chance. 'So you did talk to her?' Andy demanded at his lack of surprise and denial. She had been hoping that her mother had been lying in the letter, when she said that she had asked Tommy to pass along the news before she made contact with their daughter.

'No,' Tommy said. 'She called. Left a message.'

'When?'

'Sometime last week.'

She let out a disbelieving breath, flicking her hair out of her eyes with a jerky movement of her head. 'And you didn't tell me? You just… what? Decided to start drinking again?' she waved her hands, leaving them palms up if waiting to receive something.

She wasn't getting anything good.

'You can go, Swarek.' Tommy tossed his chin in Sam's direction before letting it fall into the saggy extra chin beneath it, like a slinky collapsing into his chest.

'No,' Andy said firmly, still looking at Tommy but evidently still feeling Sam's presence. 'I want him here.'

'Andy…' Tommy spoke her name in protest. But Andy didn't care if he were embarrassed. Sam had seen him at his worst, anyway. The time they had to consider that he may have drunkenly killed someone?

_Yeah, that had to be more mortifying than this._

'So you knew Granddad died?'

Tommy sighed deeply. 'She said that's why she was calling. She thought I should tell you.'

'But you _didn't_.'

'Andy, I didn't know how.' His voice wavered a little, helpless. 'You loved him…'

'Yeah and you didn't,' she snipped.

'He just never approved. Never liked me.'

'Yeah well, I wonder why,' Andy said, cuttingly.

Tommy's face fell and his eyes seemed to sink further into his face.

Andy regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. 'Dad…' she began, closing her eyes briefly as if she couldn't stand to see his face. 'I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry.'

'I've gotta go,' Tommy mumbled.

'Dad...' Andy said, like a guilty plea for forgiveness. Her shoulders slumped as she watched her father turn away.

Sam still stood in place by the wall. A silent observer, but by no means an oblivious one. His eyes were focused, his expression solemn.

'Got my meeting,' Tommy said as he rummaged around for his keys on the coffee table. Finding them, he moved toward the front door, eyes to the floor. 'Lock the door behind you,' he mumbled, pulling the door closed behind him.

_You forgot your coat, Dad._ The words were on the tip of her tongue. But he was gone.

x x x

Andy sat down on the sofa, her elbows on her knees and her hands like L-shaped brackets supporting her head. Her thumbs pressed into the underside of her jaw. Sam felt the fleeting urge to push them away and put kisses in their place. But now was not the right time. And it was not what she needed. He watched her and took a few steps closer.

'Andy...'

She looked up at him, her full attention summoned by his use of her first name.

He nodded toward the letter that Tommy had dropped on the messy coffee table, silently asking permission to read it. He'd got the gist of the situation, but needed to understand exactly what was going on. He figured him reading the letter himself would be easier on Andy than urging her to explain it to him.

She raised her brows and nodded. His gaze didn't leave hers as he closed the distance between him and the letter, and in doing so, the distance between him and her. His locked gaze seemed to suggest that he was waiting for her to change her mind. He'd done that once or twice before. Albeit, under greatly different circumstances. Their first night. It seemed so long ago now, but they both remembered it as if it were yesterday.

Andy didn't stop him. So he picked up the letter and sat in the old armchair opposite her. There was silence as he read it. He finished reading quickly, fast enough to surprise Andy when he refolded the letter and pressed down the crisp fold, meeting her eyes again. _Perhaps he's a reader?_ She wouldn't really have picked it. Which was not to say she didn't think he was intelligent. She just couldn't imagine him indulging in a good book on a cold winter's night. _Perhaps non-fiction. Maybe._ She still had so much to learn about him. If they ever got the chance.

Sam spoke abruptly, without preamble or preface. 'And your Dad knew.'

He didn't clarify what he was referring to, but Andy understood. She knew he was speaking about the death of her Grandfather.

'Yeah, you heard him,' she said, referring to the dialogue that Sam had just been witness to. 'Apparently she called,' she spoke with a bitter laugh of disbelief, tugging at the right sleeve of the grey hoodie she wore.

'You were close.' It was a statement, not a question.

'We used to be,' Andy said.

'What happened?'

The warm timbre of his voice beckoned an open, honest reply.

'I used to visit him after school. Not very day, but enough.' She nodded, as if reassuring herself that she'd been a good granddaughter. 'But he had dementia and when… when my mother left, she moved him into a nursing home close to her. I went to visit once, but they told me she was in with him, so…' she trailed off. 'I never went back, Sam.' She let her head drop to her hands, as if heavy with guilt.

'Andy…' he began, wanting to reassure her.

But she cut him off. 'And on top of that, then there's _her_. She just sends me a letter, after all this time. Completely out of the blue, like we're old friends or something? And only because she is being the dutiful daughter passing along the news, not because she actually wanted to contact me,' she said with anger. 'She didn't even ask anything about me.' Her voice softened and she sounded so much younger. It took Sam by surprise.

But it didn't slow his reply.

'She doesn't have a right to,' he said immediately. His voice was firm, protective even.

Andy let out a soft breath and pressed her lips together. 'I can't go, Sam.' She shrugged her shoulders in a sign of helplessness. 'I can't see _her_.'

She didn't say it, but Sam knew she was referring to her grandfather's funeral. He nodded, ever so slightly. 'He'd understand.' Sam really didn't know, after all, he had never met the man. But he felt confident his words were the truth.

Andy's eyes remained troubled, but after a moment, a hint of a smile peeked through her sad demeanor.

'He'd have liked you,' she said, reflective.

'Good taste,' Sam replied, a lightness in his words and a grin pulling at the corners of his lips.

Andy laughed weakly, tucking her hair behind her ears and closing her eyes for a second as if to send back the tears that had filled them.

Sam stood up and moved closer. Andy's heart fluttered.

He sat down beside her and gently pulled her face towards his, kissing her slowly, like they had all the time in the world. It was soft, his intentions nothing more than the desire to love and comfort.

He brushed his nose against hers once they parted. She took a breath. He swallowed.

'Andy…' he whispered. Her brown eyes flickered up to his, blurry at such close proximity. It didn't matter. 'I'm sorry… for last night. Sending you away.'

The words sent a stabbing pain through her, the painful memory far too fresh. But it was fleeting, though not to be replaced by something much more enjoyable. Panic suddenly swept over her, his words reminding her of the rule that they were currently breaking.

She jerked back from him. She couldn't believe that she'd just disregarded the rules. He'd started talking and stoically resisted her encouragement to go and then…. well, her heart had clearly told her head to piss off.

Until now. 'Oh god, Sam. We can't be - we can't see each other.' Her voice was panicked and she flickered her eyes around the room, as if certain someone was there to see them.

'No cameras here, McNally' he teased.

She wasn't amused. 'Sam. We can't just–'

He put his hands on the sides of her face and looked her right in the eye. A smile was on his face, for he wasn't able to hide his slight amusement at her sudden, somewhat unnecessary panic. The smile disappeared as he spoke, as if worried she'd get the wrong idea. 'Andy, right now, it doesn't matter. If you need me, _that's_ what matters.'

'But…' she protested feebly.

'_Do_ you need me?' he asked, blunt yet warm and not in the least bit arrogant despite the potential for his words to come across that way.

'Sam…' she stalled, eyes drifting away.

He lowered his head so his eyes could chase hers. 'Do you _need_ me?'

She felt awkward and a little ashamed to admit just how much she need him. Not just now, but always. Not for survival – at least, unless they were on the job and things had gone really, _really_ bad. But for true happiness. Simple as that.

And right now? For comfort. For support. For the whole, cliché 'shoulder to lean on' kit and kaboodle.

'Yes,' she answered, softly. 'I mean, you're there when it matters.' She repeated the words he'd once said to her, a vulnerable look in her eyes.

'So _let _me be?'

She replied simply, but with certainty. 'Okay.'


	9. Chapter IX

_AN: Longest chapter yet! I really hope you like it. I have had a horrible day. My beautiful one and a half year old kitty, Rudy, had to be put down this morning. Anyway, I distracted myself with writing and thus, here is chapter ten. Thanks for all your kind reviews and support. Please review! I know I am sometimes poor at responding, but I appreciate every single word. Hope you enjoy this chapter! It's 100% Sam and Andy. Because we could do with that right now. Well, it would have been all them, regardless, but you know what I mean! One more thing, you might want to reread Just Say Yes chapter seven. You'll see why. x_

**IX:**

Andy slumped down in the passenger seat of Sam's truck, the seatbelt digging into her chin. The gaze of her brown eyes darted nervously out the windows.

'What _are_ you doing?' Sam asked, a little goofiness in his tone. Just like the first time he'd asked her that.

'I'm hiding.' She wished she had a duvet to burrow under.

'You're gonna hurt yourself,' Sam said, glancing across at her uncomfortable position.

'This is a bad idea,' she said quickly, seemingly ignoring the fact that he had spoken.

'Yeah, like I said,' Sam spoke, eyes on the road. 'If I hit the brakes you're gonna choke yourself.'

'Not that. This!' Andy said, frustration evident.

'What?' Sam glanced across at her, more amused than anything. Right now, the upset and grief of her family troubles seemed to have left her. He knew it wouldn't be for long and was waiting for it to catch up with her. Most likely when she was least expecting it. It didn't matter though, he was ready.

'Being out together,' she clarified with raised brows and a jutting, sharp chin.

Sam himself raised a brow. 'Wanna find a cheap motel to hide out in?' He grinned.

'Sam…' she scolded. She was serious.

'Andy, there aren't any cameras,' he teased when she peered out the side window, her eyes just above the bottom of the glass.

'Duh,' she said. 'But someone could still see us!'

'We're out of fifteen's area. No one from work is gonna see us here.'

'You don't know that for sure,' she said, accompanied by raised brows - again - and a quick head shake as she looked across at his profile.

'No,' he admitted. 'But I _do_ know that you need to work on your hiding skills.' Andy's brow furrowed a little and Sam clarified, nodding in her direction. 'Top of your head's visible, looks more like I've kidnapped you.' He wasn't even looking at her now, eyes on the road. It didn't seem to matter.

'You have kidnapped me!' Andy exclaimed melodramtically, creeping further down into the seat.

Sam grinned and shook his head a little as he watched the road ahead. The truth was, after sitting together in Tommy's apartment for long enough for him to convince her to 'screw the rules', - adapting her words and using them against her, kind of anyway - he'd decided she needed a change of scene, and fast. Sitting in the dingy apartment had been doing nothing to distract her or lift the weight from her hoodie-clad shoulders. He'd suggested they get out of there, and Andy had willingly obliged. No questions asked, surprsingly.

But now, out of her father's apartment and with her other concerns having taken a hiatus, she seemed to be focusing on the current problem. They weren't supposed to be together.

Sam looked across at Andy again, her bottom lip sticking out and resting against the edge of the seatbelt.

'You're pouting,' Sam said in controlled amusement.

'No, I'm not,' she denied.

'Mhmm.' Sam mumbled, neither denying or conceding. His eyes were back on the road.

'Sam… really, we shouldn't be doing this.' They stopped at a red light.

Sam swallowed, lips parting and staying that way for a few seconds before he spoke.

'Andy. I stuffed up before. I don't care about the bereaucratic rules of a suspension neither of us should've gotten in the first place,' he said firmly. 'You are what matters to me. Okay? You.' The light turned green.

'Sam…' she protested. The engine revved and they were moving again.

'Andy. If you want me to take you home and that's it, then I will,' he said. 'I won't like it, but I will.'

'What _would_ you like?'

He shrugged. 'You. Me. Together.'

'Together, huh?' she teased lamely, as if to diffuse the seriousness that had crept in. 'Presumptuous much?'

'That's not…' he began to explain, concerned she had gotten the wrong idea.

'I know.'

'Don't take me home.'

'Okay.'

She smiled and crept upwards in her seat.

But only a little.

Better to be safe than sorry.

x x x

'Where are we?' Andy asked when they pulled up outside a warehouse in an area of town she was not a complete stranger to, but was far from knowing well. She looked out the side window and then back out the front, as if the panoramic perspective would offer great insight.

'A warehouse,' Sam replied evasively.

Andy turned to face him, chin dropped and looking at him, unimpressed. 'Helpful,' she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

Sam grinned and nodded his chin in the direction of the warehouse. 'I just gotta pick something up.'

'What?' Andy asked.

'Surprise, McNally,' he said, grinning.

'I hate surprises.'

'Oh,' he said simply, a playful sparkle in his eyes. 'So what was I?'

'An ass.'

He wasn't expecting that. 'Thanks,' he replied sarcastically.

'Well, you were,' she said without malice.

'Yeah,' he agreed, a tight-lipped grin on his face. 'Sorry.'

She shrugged. 'Water under the bridge.'

_Very zen and all that._

'Okay then, Buddha.'

'Hey, I am letting you off easy!' Andy protested, smiling.

'I know,' Sam replied seriously, the meaning greater than the current topic of discussion.

'I didn't mean...' Andy trailed off. She hadn't meant anything by it and had not wantered to dampen the mood.

'I know.'

Andy nodded a little. 'You gonna go get this thing, or what?'

'Yeah, yeah,' he replied with grumpiness that was clearly fake. Andy giggled. 'You coming?' Sam asked, glancing over at her as he opened the truck door.

'I thought it was a surprise,' Andy said, getting out of the truck, nevertheless.

He shrugged and locked the truck, the keys jangling in his hand. 'It is,' he said. 'Until we get inside.'

He lead the way around to the side of the buidling, Andy followed close behind, ponytail flicking about in the wind. She could feel the cold air through the denim of her jeans.

The warehouse in front of them was four stories tall, nestled in between other buildings that looked even more run-down and virtually abandoned.

'I have two theories,' she said as they walked into the shadows at the side of the building.

'Go,' he prompted. 'Shoot' never seemed appropriate.

'You have a fancypants dinner set up and are planning on proposing.'

'Fancypants?' He glanced back at her with a dimpled smile and raised brows.

She shrugged, a goofy grin on her face. 'You know in those romantic comedies where the guy takes the girl to some abandoned building and is being all secretive? Then it turns out it's beautiful on the inside and he has a table all set up with candles and flowers. And usually there is a violin player. And a chef.'

'Never seen a romantic comedy in my life, McNally.'

'Too cool for that, too.' She said, picking up on a conversation from her second visit to his undercover place.

He scoffed under his breath and fiddled with his keys as they reached the heavy side door, searching for the right one.

Suddenly Andy realised she might have freaked him out. She wasn't serious in her suggestion of a proposal. It wasn't even a suggestion, not in a way that meant she wanted it to happen. She didn't expect or want such a thing.

_It worked out so well the last time, after all. _

Not that it was fair to compare Sam to Luke. She knew it wasn't. But regardless, it was way, _way_ too soon to be thinking about marriage.

'I don't mean that I'm expecting… I'm not expecting you to um, _propose_ or anything. I mean, it's _way_ too soon, not that I think you _would_ be thinking about it… seriously, just forget I said that okay?'

Sam let her ramble, clearly enjoying her nervousness and letting her go until she ran out of steam.

'Andy. I get it,' Sam assured her, an amused grin on his face. He swore there was a blush on her own. He found the key he was looking for and shoved it in the keyhole, wobbling it a bit to get it to sit right. 'What's the second one?'

'What?' Andy asked, snapping out of her embarrassment and ending up confused.

'Your second theory. You said you had two.' Sam leant on the door, as if waiting for her to say the password and be granted entry.

'Oh, right,' she said. 'Theory two is that you are planning to kill me and dump the body.' She spoke with deadpan humour.

Sam moved off the door and grinned. 'Nope,' he said, pushing the door open. 'Maybe next week,' he teased cheekily.

'Hey!' Andy said as walked through the door, Sam right behind her.

x x x

Sam flicked the lights and the flourescent glow swept through the concrete-floored space. The ceilings were high and the space was open, with a few moveable partition walls. There was random furniture arranged in rows - clearly being stored rather than used. Sheets covered some of the pieces further toward the back.

'Uhh… you're a hoader…?' Andy suggested, totally confused. She peered around one of the divider walls and saw stacks of storage boxes.

Sam touched her shoulder and gently turned her to face the wall behind her. A plaque hung on the wall. Most of it was taken up with a familiar logo.

'Toronto Police Service,' Andy read the text on the logo out loud. Next to the logo, embossed in all capitals, read the words GUNS AND GANGS TASK FORCE.

She tuned to look back at Sam.

'So, what? This is part of Guns and Gangs?' She asked, wandering between the furniture.

Solid black desk with more scratches than desk. An arched floor lamp that seemed to defy gravity given the size of the pendant at the end. A glass coffee table that was in much better condition than the wood one upside down on top of it with a leg that was clearly crooked.

Sam let her explore, trailing behind her as he began to explain.

'The police department owns it,' he said. 'Was once Internal Affairs offices but now Guns and Gangs uses it as storage. All the stuff for undercover ops and major projects.'

'Who needs Ikea,' Andy said, having made her way to some of the items covered with sheets. She lifted a dusty corner of one and revealed a revoltingly mustard-coloured couch, complete with a large hole in one of the cushions. Andy dared not look into it. 'On second thoughts…'

Sam nodded toward it. 'That was for a illegal weapons bust a few years back. One of the guys went under as a first-time buyer. His place had to be a dump, we played it that he'd been saving every penny to buy a shotgun.'

'What for?'

'Kill his ex.'

'Lovely.'

'Yeah well, she didn't exist,' Sam said. 'Cover remember?'

'Right,' Andy said, feeling silly. Truth was, she was distracted by all the stuff crowding the space and the feeling like she had been let in on a secret.

She moved around the divider wall that separated the furniture from the stacks of cardboard boxes on cheap metal shelves. Her eyes glanced at the printed labels on each box, seeing number codes that made no sense to her, accompanied by dates and handwritten signatures beneath one or two word descriptions.

Crockery, read one box. Artwork, read the next.

She looked up at Sam.

'Sam, is anyone else here?' she said, looking around another one of the divider walls.

'Just you and me, McNally,' he said. 'Why? Truth to those suspicions that I'm planning your murder?' he teased.

She rolled her eyes. 'Are we allowed to be here?'

'Yes.'

'Really?'

'Relax, I got the key remember.' Sam walked past Andy, heading toward the far side of the vast space.

'Because you have to pick up something?' she asked, trailing after him - eyes glancing over every item they passed.

Grandfather clock. Chest of drawers. Rocking horse?

_There was a story there._

Andy wasn't sure she wanted to know.

'Yeah,' Sam called out, confirming that he was indeed needing to pick something up. His voice echoed off the walls.

'And what is that exactly?'

'This.' Sam said, stopping suddenly. Andy came to a stop beside him.

Long pieces of silver metal leant against the wall. One was different than the rest, wider and made up of parallel cyclindrical bars. Wooden slats stuck out the end of a tall cardboard box beside the metal.

'A bedframe…?' Andy questioned, tilting her head to the side and realising that the larger piece of metal was actually a headboard. Realisation dawned. 'Oh… Sam…'

'Want this too?' he asked, pulling a sheet off a mattress that leant against the wall, blocking the light that from one of the high windows.

Realisation came quicker this time, having already solved half the puzzle.

She remembered their second night together and the pale blue of a mattress as they hastily undressed it.

And then themselves.

They'd made love in front of the fire.

The next morning – when they had moved back to the bed - she'd commented on the bed's comfort and asked, mostly jokingly, if he could bring the bed home with him.

In the end, nothing else had mattered other than the fact that he came home with himself.

In one piece.

But now her eyes darted between the bed and it's mattress. A perfect pair.

She couldn't believe he'd remembered.

Never let it be said that Sam Swarek isn't a sweet romantic, underneath it all.

She looked at Sam and saw that he was waiting for a response. He seemed almost nervous, his feet shifted place on the concrete floor.

_Did Sam Swarek get nervous?_

Her eyes were misty, but no words seemed to come.

'So I take it you remember?' he asked, half-laugh at the end. A nervous one.

_So apparently he did._

Suddenly, Andy stepped closer and threw her arms around him. She hugged him tight and close, their jeans brushing against eachother.

He took that as a 'yes'.

x x x

Andy sat cross-legged on the wooden floor of her bedroom. Sam sat on the other side of the room, the half-constructed bed frame between them. After Sam had explained that he had called in a favour and assured her that the bed was hers, they had loaded the frame into the back of Sam's truck and secured the mattress on top with some rope that Sam took from a box in the warehouse. Andy had asked if they were allowed to take some, and Sam had grinned at her worry. Guns and Gangs' was not lacking in supplies, he'd told her. No one would care if he took some rope.

They'd gone back to her place, Andy hiding even lower in her seat as they neared Fifteen's area, almost entirely hidden by the time they were in it - despite the fact that Sam skirted the edges, avoiding it as much as possible. They had unloaded the bed, Andy hurrying him, for fear someone would see them - despite the fact that it was now almost dark. Sam had noted that her street was lacking in streetlights. It bothered him, but he didn't say anything. She'd tell him he was being paranoid or overprotective. Maybe even teasingly call him 'Dad'.

_No, thank you._

Now, they were mid-way through the process of putting the bed together. Andy fiddled with one of the two remaining screws that was needed to complete the assembly.

'Pass me one of those?'

'Hm?' Andy looked up, distracted. Sam nodded toward one of the screws in her hand, just as she registered what he was talking about. 'Oh, yeah.' She tossed him a screw and he caught it between two hands.

Sam's gaze lingered on Andy for a moment, before he set about twisting the screw into place. He then moved to the foot of the bed, closer to Andy, pushing the box of slats out of his way and inspecting his work.

'I'm a terrible person,' Andy said suddenly.

Sam humoured her. 'Okay Terrible Person, pass me another screw?'

She picked one up but did not pass it to him. She fiddled with it in her fingers. Sam looked up, watching her fidgeting. Her eyes were troubled, her gaze darting around the room like that of a restless child.

'I never went back and visited him,' Andy said. Sam knew she was referring to her grandfather. 'He was stuck in some _home_ and I couldn't even get over my own issues enough to be able to suck it up and go see him.'

She spoke with her hands and Sam watched the screw fly around between them in the secure grip of her fingers.

'I mean, one attempt and that's it? And then today, God, I upset my Dad. He probably hates me now and-'

'Andy. Stop.' He cut her off.

His hands covered hers, lowering them and stopping their flailing. Andy misunderstood the contact.

'Oh, right,' she said, looking down at the screw in her hand. 'I was meant to be giving you this.' She held it up for him and he took it swiftly.

'Screw that,' he said. Andy's brow raised at the lame, accidental joke. Sam dropped his chin and gave a fleeting, teethy grin, clearly judging the joke himself. He lifted his head and tossed the screw to the side and slid closer to her.

'McNally, listen to me.' He placed his hands on either side of her face. 'You are not a terrible person.'

'Yeah well, you're kinda biased.'

He ignored her. 'You were a kid. Dealing with an alcoholic father and a mother who up and left.' He didn't sugar-coat it. 'You had enough to deal with. And a certain point, McNally, you just gotta do what's best for you. You were looking after yourself, nothing wrong with that.'

'But what about all the years since then…?' She sought reassurance. Enough, at least, to let this go. For now. He expected she'd beat herself up about it - on and off - for some time. It was just who she was.

It didn't mean he wasn't going to try and prevent that.

He continued speaking. 'The first time you went, they told you your mother was there. Makes sense that you couldn't go again.'

'I couldn't face her.'

Sam nodded, a slight shoulder shrug as if it were no big deal. 'Self-preservation.'

'But she might not have even been there.'

'But there was the possibility. And the memory of last time,' he said. 'Some wounds run deep, McNally.'

She nodded and took a deep breath. Sam brushed her hair from her eyes and she dropped her forehead to his.

'Now who's the wise one?' she teased.

'Oh that's always been me,' Sam boasted, eliminating the chance of rebuttal by stealing a gentle kiss.

The kiss ended and their foreheads parted. It was romantic, sure, but not exactly comfortable. Andy had told him once that he was far too hard-headed. Maybe she had meant it literally.

Her eyes were still a little troubled and Sam knew why.

'As for your Dad, he kinda deserved it.'

Andy laughed a little. She couldn't help it. She nodded.

'I'll call him later,' she said. She wanted to apologise, regardless.

Sam sighed a little, but smiled. 'Wouldn't be you if you didn't, McNally.'

She just rolled her eyes.

'Now you gonna let me get back to work or what?' Sam asked suddenly, an abrupt change in mood - faux gruffness and all.

'Hey, I'm helping too!'

'Sitting there looking pretty doesn't count.'

She squinted at him. 'I am gonna take that as a compliment,' she said. 'And anyway, I was passing you stuff!'

'Okay, okay.' Sam grinned, sharp profile and a dimple in view as he moved back to the foot of the bed.

'And you said you were good with tools. I'm letting you prove it.'

'Ohh,' he drawled, examing the two remaining empty screw holes. 'Thanks.'

'You're welcome,' Andy replied cheekily.

Sam leant to one side, eyes scanning the wood floor.

'Probably shouldn't have thrown that screw, though.' She read his mind. And his gaze, too.

'Yeah, yeah,' he said, half-grumble. 'Wanna help me look?'

She rolled her eyes and leant down onto her hands, nose close to the ground like a sniffer dog.

'What do I get if I find it?' she asked, her words flirty in theory, but childlike in practice.

'A bed that doesn't collapse soon as you get into it tonight.'

_Good enough._

x x x

Half an hour later, Andy lay on the soft mattress and tried to let her mind relax.

No worrying, no thinking.

_About anything._

Other than how hungry she was.

Sam had gone out to the living room to order a pizza for dinner. Andy had reminded him that he said he could cook and that one day she would be expecting to taste the proof of that admission. She had teasingly said that she would let him off playing chef - for now - seeing as he had already just played handyman.

Good with tools, check.

Cooking, yet to be determined. Cleaning, too.

Suddenly, he heard a soft thump in the living room, followed by the exasperated utterance of a four letter-word. And not one you'd want a child to repeat.

'You okay?' she called out, sitting up a little and leaning on her arms, extended behind her. Her legs were stretched out in front of her.

Sam ambled into the room rubbing his knee.

'Your old bed is feeling rejected,' Sam said as he approached.

Andy raised a brow. 'Did it attack you?' She grinned.

'Dont worry, my knee came out on top.'

She rolled her eyes.

Sometimes, Sam thought, she seemed so very young.

Not that he minded.

It was another thing that made her, well, _her_.

When they had unloaded the new bed, Andy had insisted they dismantle her old bed frame, before setting up the new one. Probably some 'bad and good candy thing,' Sam had thought. Though he hadn't been able to argue against the idea. It made sense. It was practical.

You would have been able to fit both beds in the generously sized bedroom, but barely. And by no means comfortably or particularly easily. And seeing as Andy seemingly had no hesitations about getting rid of the old, Sam was happy to go with her plan.

They had leant her old mattress against a bedroom wall and carried the pieces of the frame out into the living room, leaning them against the back of her couch.

'You don't need me to kiss it better?' she teased, glancing down at Sam's jean-glad leg.

'I didn't say that, McNally,' he said, a little devilishly.

Andy giggled. 'Maybe later.'

Sam leant down and gave her lips a short, but tender kiss.

'That'll do for now,' he said, a twinkle in his eyes.

Andy smiled and giggled again, before lifting her arms and letting her body fall back into the mattress. It was sheet-less - they hadn't bothered yet - but she'd tossed her pillows at the head, so as to test it properly. To get the full experience, she had said, as Sam had wandered out to the living room to order the pizza. She had quickly followed that up with a grin and calling out a feeble warning of 'don't make it dirty!' when she realised how easily that could've been done. 'Wouldn't dream of it, McNally,' he had said.

Her stomach grumbled a teeny bit as she lay back down. She felt more than heard it.

'Pizza's on the way,' Sam said.

She told herself that the timing of that statement was purely coincidental.

_He hadn't heard that grumble, right?_

On second thoughts, she didn't care if he had. That in itself was more comforting than alarming.

She nodded in response. 'Okay,' she said.

'The bed good?' Sam asked, leaning down on the mattress, causing her to tip a little toward him.

'Yeah,' she said as Sam pulled his legs up onto the mattress and sank down beside her.

'Good,' he said simply, their faces to the ceiling.

After a second, Andy rolled onto her side, facing Sam.

'It feels just the same.'


	10. Chapter X

_AN: I'm here! I come bearing chapter! I am so sorry for the epic delay of over a year. Honestly, there is no excuse so I am not even going to try and justify it other than to say that season four somewhat killed my inspiration. But I am finally back and here is chapter ten! It's been so long that I encourage you to go back a few chapters and reread so that you remember what's going on. I confess that I had to myself! Also, please remember that this fanfiction was begun prior to season three, so is not canon with seasons three or four. I recently realised that Tommy's AA group leader a few chapters back was called Claire. Haha! Anyway, no promises for when the next chapter will be up, but I promise that I will do my best! Please review and thank you to everyone for sticking with me! Hope you like the chapter!_

**X:**

Andy lay with her bare body cradled in his arms, the embrace keeping the warmth alive. They'd eaten the pizza on the bed, tossing the box on the floor when they'd finished. It was now hidden under clothes that had been discarded with love. It was late, and they had been lying peacefully for a good while, but Andy's mind was whirring.

'I should go,' she said softly, all of a sudden.

'Hate to break it to you, McNally, but this is your place.' As he spoke, she felt the vibrations of Sam's chest against her back.

She laughed. 'No,' she began. 'I mean to the funeral.' Her voice was suddenly somber.

'Okay.' Sam spoke simply.

'So you think I should?' she asked, rolling over in his arms so that she could meet his eyes. Her hand brushed against the metal frame of the newly assembled bed that help such few, but such precious memories.

Sam raised up on an elbow, looking down at Andy, so close beside him. Her eyes were big, her messy hair like a splash of paint over the crisp white pillow. 'McNally.' He began. He swallowed and opened his mouth a second before any words came out. 'I think you should go if you want to,' he spoke, words lazily running into each other.

'But I don't _know_ if I want to,' Andy said, frustration creeping into her voice. 'And it's not even about what I want, it's about what is right. Going is the right thing to do.'

It sounded simple, cut and dry. But her eyes, lit softly with worry in the gentle glow of a floor lamp, told another story. He prompted it. 'But..?'

Andy sighed. Sam knew what her concern was. He was not a fool, especially when it came to Andy.

Well, not in this sense anyway. Not when it came to hear hopes and fears.

'Tell me,' he prompted. He needed her to say it. More than that, _she_ needed to say it. To let go of the hold on her fears and let him help her chase them away.

'But I'm scared of seeing her, my... mother,' she admitted with the tone of her final word like that of an attitude-ridden teenager. 'I mean, not _scared_ really. Nervous, I guess...' she backtracked.

'Andy, its okay to be scared.'

She shook her head before the words had even fully left his mouth. 'I'm a _cop_, Sam. I chase bad guys with guns and yet I am scared of seeing my own _mother_?' Andy scoffed with self-deprecation, rolling her eyes at herself.

Sam let out a breath. 'Hey,' he said, as if leading into a proposed reasoning. 'She hurt you worse than a guy with a gun ever could.'

There it was.

His words brought her eyes back to his. His gaze fixed, his words - on one level at least - bitterly true.

Andy was silent for a moment, letting his words sink in and assessing their validity. Sam noticed that she pulled the covers higher over her bare shoulder, like a turtle retreating a little way into his shell. He doubted she was even aware of it. He knew it was not he that she was retreating from, more the harsh reality of their topic of conversation.

A shrugged her shoulder. 'But my grandpa never hurt me,' she said. 'He'd want me there.'

'Look, I didn't know him,' Sam began. 'But it sounds to me like he'd want you to do whatever is best for you.'

'So I shouldn't go?'

'Andy,' Sam said with a smile - hello there, dimples – as he rolled on top of her. He brushed hair from her eyes and supported his weight above her. 'Only you know the answer to that.'

'Thanks, Buddha,' she teased.

'Hey,' he rebutted, kissing her gently.

They parted and she let out a breath.

'I'm going,' she said.

'Okay,' Sam said simply. 'So am I.'

'What?'

'If you want me to,' he amended. 'If you don't, I'm still going. I'll sit in the truck and wait. Drive you home.'

'Sam...' she said. 'You can't. The suspension. No contact.'

'Like right now?' he raised his hands, gesturing at the lack of any physical space between them.

'Don't remind me,' Andy said, rolling her eyes.

'Ouch,' he said. 'That bad huh?' he teased, lightening the mood, even if momentarily.

She smiled. 'You know what I mean.'

'No one will even know.'

She gave a pointed look. 'I'm a terrible liar.' It was true. Even he couldn't deny that.

Sam swallowed. 'I'll talk to Frank.'

'What?'

'I'll tell him I need to go with you. Get his permission,' he laughed.

'Sam, be serious,' she said with a light laugh, pushing at his shoulders and craning her neck back into the pillow.

Sam stayed put. 'Ohh, I am.'

Andy titled her chin down, looking back up at Sam. Her face was unsure.

'You'd do that?'

'Yes,' he said quickly.

She smiled, touched. 'But what if he says no?'

'Then I'll pretend I misheard him.'

'Sam!' She exclaimed, not entirely sure that he was joking.

He kissed away her protest.

x x x

'Sam,' Frank spoke his name in greeting.

'Boss,' Sam addressed, having entered the office with a knock but without waiting for a reply.

'You can't be here,' Frank said. 'You're suspended.'

'I remember,' Sam responded, smiling a tight lipped smile.

'So,' Frank began. 'What are you doing in my office?'

'Need to talk to you,' Sam said.

'Make it fast,' Frank said. 'I've got a lot to do. I'm down a couple of officers.'

Sam brushed off that comment. He'd be at work if he could. And he wasn't going to apologise for their orbits finally synchronising, bad timing or not. Apologies implied regret. He had none.

Sam pulled out the chair opposite Frank's desk and sat down. Frank's

face wore surprise. Sam was not one for formal sit-downs. Sam leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands pressed together as if in a prayer position, leather jacket pulling snug across his back.

'McNally's grandfather died. Her mother's father. The funeral is next week. It'll be the first time Andy's seen her mother in fifteen years,' Sam explained, laying out the facts as if it were a case. 'I need to be with her.'

Frank leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin.

'24 hours, boss. That's it.'

'That's a long funeral.'

'It's in Kingston.'

Frank sighed.

'You know McNally,' he began with a reverent tone. 'She says she's fine on her own, but she's gonna need someone for this.'

Frank let out a long sigh, rocking slightly against the back of his chair in contemplation.

'You're a pain in the neck, Swarek. You know that don't you?' Frank asked, somewhat rhetorically.

Sam replied anyway. 'Better than a pain in the ass.' His smile quirked.

A moment passed. Then Frank leant forward, elbows on his desk.

'I can't stop you from attending a funeral,' he said, opening his hands, palms up as if in defeat or meditation. 'As far as I am concerned, who's funeral it is, who else is there - that is none of my business. You hear me?'

Sam nodded, garnering the unofficial permission in his boss' words. He honestly hadn't known what to expect. It had certainly been a gamble, but he hadn't really felt like he'd had anything to lose. Frank could either yell at him, or say yes. Tack on a few extra suspension days if he'd really felt like it, but Sam doubted he'd do that. More Bokyo's style than Frank's.

Turned out, the visit had been worth it.

'Thanks, Boss,' Sam said, true gratefulness in his voice.

He stood, eager to leave before Frank added a 'but' or tacked on some unwanted words of advice.

'Sam.'

_Damn. _Heheard it behind him, as soon as his hand touched the door handle.

He turned around.

'Why did you ask me?'

Sam's face wore confusion. Frank continued. 'Not exactly your style. Seeking permission.'

'McNally. I told her I'd ask you.' It was no secret he'd do anything for her, no point trying to hide that now.

Frank nodded slowly, a subtle smile forming on his lips.

'Would it have made a difference if I'd said no?' Frank asked.

'You really want me to answer that?'

Frank scoffed. 'Get out of here.'


End file.
